


Life: Reloading

by animeotaku20



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Dahlia Has a Foul Mouth, Dahlia is a Little Shit, Dumbledore is Having Fun For Once, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Humor, Is this crack?, Reluctant Time Travelling Companions, Snape is So Done With Life, Time Travel, i'm not sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeotaku20/pseuds/animeotaku20
Summary: After making amends in the afterlife, Dahlia Potter, Snape, and Dumbledore get kicked back to the realm of the living by Death. Only problem is, it’s 1991 again. Dumbledore is now a genuinely cheerful old man who’s a bit mental, Dahlia's a sneaky little shit who’s obviously too cute to be any trouble, and Snape wonders what he did to deserve this.





	1. We're going to break the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

As far as she was concerned, whoever said that the afterlife was a place of everlasting peace needed to be shot. Repeatedly.

Dahlia hadn't been planning on dying quite so soon after the war, and yet she still took a flash of green to the back not even three years after the end of the shitty battle that had cost their world so much.

And really, how bloody unfair was it that every time Tom-fucking-Riddle tried to kill her she survived, but some no-name wannabe Death Eater that was about as memorable as an NPC from one of Dudley's endless games actually managed to off her?

Totally unfair.

And shitty, because apparently all being the so-called 'Master of Death' granted her was the ability to interact with the arsehole that could read her mind without Legilimency – bullshit, and totally OP – so knew she had a fuck-ton of unresolved issues with certain authority figures, and end up on the receiving end of his 'brilliant' ideas to help her because she'd managed to amuse him by finding his Hallows when centuries of adventurers had failed.

So basically, Death was a sarcastic arsehole that amused himself – himself? Itself? She still wasn't completely sure on that front – by morphing into random people and characters – and she'd be the first to say seeing Death just chilling as Cloud was fucking weird – and popping up at random times to wind her up in her endless and lonely afterlife.

At least, that _was_ all he did. Before he went to get her company.

Like she said, the bastard knew she had 'issues' when it came to people in her life – and excuse her, but calming down from a war and realising just how much their society and certain people had fucked her over hadn't exactly left her feeling all that zen towards much of anything or anyone – so decided to go in search of a couple of people that she had the most complicated feelings for.

Like Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore.

To be honest, when they first turned up she'd snapped and went on a mad tirade and raged at them for hours on end, shouting and screaming at them for every little thing she could think of. Even though she'd logically known they were all dead it hadn't stopped her from – very much enthusiastically – trying to kill them using every bit of magic she could think of, regardless of laws or ethics.

After they'd stopped freaking out – and muttering things about Lily and Kendra with terrified faces – they'd started arguing back, and to be honest that was their relationship for years.

Death thought he was funny grouping three incredibly stubborn and strong-willed people in one place without a chance of escape, but Dahlia had never felt so murderous towards him. Unsurprisingly, Snape also hated their situation and plotted how to murder the entity of Death and escape, even as she mocked him for even thinking he had the skills to do so.

So what if it was petty to take the piss out of him? Either be polite and internalise all of her feelings, or take advantage of the fact that they were all dead and let loose with her emotions without fear of reprisal?

Despite what the git thought she wasn't stupid.

Her placement with the Dursley's, her treatment at school, the fact that nobody taught her anything about magic and her family properly, being sent to her death … she hadn't held back at all.

Then of course there were the counterarguments; she had to stay with Lily's blood while they had no idea what was happening with Voldemort, how they didn't realise she was so naïve and they couldn't get involved with no proof of anything wrong, she'd been a bloody _Horcrux_ …

Being trapped in a three-way argument for years upon years sucked balls.

Dumbledore's manipulations and passivity, Snape's inability to see past his own past, Dahlia's issues with authority and trust … the three of them were a fucking nightmare, and Death just sat back and watched it all with a look of unrepentant glee on whichever face he had at any given time.

Wanker.

"For fuck's sake, considering how many times you set me up against the fucker at school, I'm surprised you didn't want me dead at eleven! You didn't exactly protect me, did you? You could have spoken to me as a fucking person at any time, but you didn't! I was just a tool, and if I had to martyr myself to save everyone else, so fucking be it!"

As weird as it sounded, her accusing them of actively wanting her dead seemed to shock them into looking at things from her perspective for once. They'd actually looked repentant as they began to comb over their memories, and it was quite satisfying for Dahlia to see someone else realise her life wasn't all sunshine and roses for once.

Though she supposed what made it better – though infinitely worse to begin with – was Death oh-so-cheerfully taking key memories from each of them and playing them in front of everyone. Seeing the worst and most depressing memories of them all was like a sledgehammer against the wall of animosity between them. It was hard to resent someone that had experienced things in the same horrific manner as you.

Solidarity through adversity was better than nothing.

But just because they got along now didn't mean that the afterlife was calm. Oh no, that would be too _easy_ and _simple_ , and why would you ever want things to be calm when they could be fraught with arguments and sniping and _for fuck's sake Snape, what part of don't touch my stuff do you not understand?_

Dahlia Euphemia Potter was trapped with Severus Tobias Snape, a snarky bastard who never shut up about her sub-par Potions marks – which were _his_ fault, thank you very much – and the fact that it was a good thing she'd never settled down with anyone to beget more Potters and ruin the world with her spawn.

She was also trapped with Albus Pervical Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – and really, what the _fuck_ were his parents thinking? Inflicting a name like that on a child that couldn't defend itself had to count as some form of child abuse; that name was _painful_ – a man that had gone through a period of self-loathing from his actions, before he came out on the other side an overly-cheerful man that looked to be smoking something illegal, and kept giving her sweets and whatnot as he gifted her with anecdotes about her ancestors and gossiped about the staff of Hogwarts when she was a student there. (Which was something she actually found hilarious, even as she still worried about his mental state.)

So yes, the afterlife was a minefield filled with traps that would cause all manner of problems if stepped on, but they'd adjusted to it. They spent their days in their weird world which now looked like a Hogsmeade cottage but with electricity – and she totally understood why Dudley was obsessed with these games now, _Final Fantasy VII_ was awesome, and she was so close to the end, she could _feel_ it – and they'd more or less come to terms with their situation.

They should have known.

* * *

"What the fuck?!"

Normally Severino would have barked at her by now about her language – and yeah, she called him that now, mostly because he hated Italian for some reason and it pissed him off; she found it to be glorious – or Dumbledore would have given her that disappointed look he favoured – he needed a nickname too; maybe Brian? She still didn't understand how that normal name had wound its way into his full name – but at the moment they both looked as stupefied as she felt.

Then again, being told you were going to live again was pretty fucking weird.

Apparently Death was bored again – and if there was one thing to be scared of, it was that sentence – so had decided to forego his own self-imposed rules and rip their souls from the afterlife and shove them back to the world of the living for the hell of it.

But because it would be beyond problematic if they spontaneously appeared to be alive years after they died – though Dahlia could admit the idea of how certain people would react was hilarious to think about – Death had decided that if he was going to ignore one set of rules, he might as well go for broke.

So they were going back to nineteen ninety-one.

That was supposedly the beginning of everything for them – whatever _that_ meant – and so they were off to live it all again, just because the stupid git that had brought them here to begin with wanted more entertainment in the form of them navigating the difficulties and pitfalls of something they'd already experienced.

"Would you care to explain your reasoning for this endeavour?"

She looked to the side to see the grandfatherly smile in full force being aimed at the black mass who currently looked like a Dementor wielding a scythe for some reason. Apparently he was a fan of muggle interpretations of death. That, or he was just fucking with them again. She had a feeling he was fucking with them.

"Reasoning? I already told you, I'm bored, and seeing you three deal with living again should perk me right back up again, simple as."

"Simple as?"

Ah, there was the deep and silky voice of her formerly-hated professor. He sounded to be about a second away from bellowing in rage or throwing a curse at Death, and to be fair she couldn't really blame him. They hadn't long gotten used to being here, and to learn they would have to deal with life again was exhausting. Also, she really wanted to complete _Final Fantasy_ ; returning to life would have to wait, damn it!

"You expect us to believe your utter insanity is 'simple'? That you can just play with our lives from mere boredom and curiosity? Was it not enough to pull us into this forced life and push us towards reconciliation, now you must force us into an unknown situation one more? Do you have some sort of control fetish or something?!"

"Say it like it is, Severino," she muttered as she inspected her nails, studiously ignoring the Headmaster's look of reproach.

"Look," Death interrupted just as Snape went to open his mouth again, "you can bitch and moan all you want, but this is going to happen no matter how much you nag me. I've already decided and this is going to happen very shortly.

"Think of it this way: there are so many things you can change and people you can save. You know everything about Voldemort and his actions, you know about the Chamber of Secrets, hell, you three even know about certain Death Eaters and people that are alive at that point in time."

There was silence for a moment as they digested the strangely serious and truthful words that made sense. Too much sense. Death was an arsehole that delighted in causing trouble way too much to be helpful.

Dahlia looked at him and raised a brow. "And?"

"And I can't wait to see you three suffer and fuck up. Have fun!"

Before she could scream and shout any number of profanities at the bastard, she felt the floor open up beneath her and she fell down into blackness.

_I'm going to kill him._

* * *

Dahlia groaned and rolled over, all the while taking the opportunity to curse Death at least six different ways in each of the four languages she knew – hey, of course she was going to take advantage of being trapped in the afterlife with _Albus Dumbledore_ – before she rolled into the wall. Hard.

"Ow."

She gingerly lifted her head and blinked rapidly at the lack of sight, realising it was both dark and she was missing her glasses. Trying to use her pitiful blind-as-a-bat eyesight in the dark would be an exercise in futility, so she reached out and started feeling her way around wherever she was.

Upon reaching a familiar metal grate she froze, mentally counting to ten and back before she did something like scream. Or ram her head against the wall. She was sorely tempted though. _This can't be happening. Nope, no fucking away, not happening._

Repeating her inner mantra over and over again didn't seem to be helping, and she could feel her heart rate pick up at the knowledge that she really was where she thought.

The cupboard under the stairs.

"Fuck."

Dahlia huffed and flopped back on the pitiful duvets that she used as a mattress and stared – or looked in the vague direction of – the ceiling of the cupboard. Of all the shitty places she could have ended up, why did it have to be _here_? She knew Death had a shitty sense of humour, but she thought he would have done something like dump her in the middle of a high-tension situation and have her have to deal with everything at once. Like the troll. Though the more she thought about it, she probably would have had a panic attack and fucked things beyond all recognition.

… Maybe it was a good thing she didn't end up in the middle of the troll debacle.

 _There we go, there's the – spectacularly tiny – silver lining_. She supposed she was lucky that she could actually think of worse situations to have been dumped in.

Though she really needed to figure out the date. Also, whether or not Severino and Brian – she would go with Brian – had also ended up in this clusterfuck of problems with her. She was _not_ dealing with this by herself. Like, the Horcruxes were such a problem on a good day, let alone without having access to anything.

 _Wait._ She froze and slowly lifted a hand to her forehead and traced the scar on her head – and why people called it a scar when it constantly looked like an inflamed cut she'd never understand; witches and wizards had no common sense – and swore viciously. After the Horcrux had been destroyed at seventeen, the scar had actually faded to a proper scar, but the raised wound on her head was like a flashing sign she was carrying around that itty bitty piece of the crazy fucker.

What had she done in a past life to deserve this?

Dahlia rolled over – slower this time – and sat up carefully, feeling her way to the door of the oh-so-hated cupboard as she did. The door was locked as per usual, and the once-more ten-or-eleven-year-old – and bloody hell, she had to deal with puberty again – swore under her breath. Why couldn't the door just open as she wanted?

"Alohomora," she snorted sarcastically.

To her immense surprise – and glee – she felt her magic respond and the door swung open. _Huh. Who knew discussing wandless magic in the afterlife could have practical applications for the living? Maybe we should publish a paper or something, get some money. And recognition for something other than not dying._

The girl savoured the glint of daylight – it was probably really early – and she crawled out the door and stood up, stretching her limbs with a grin on her face. She was actually alive again, and even if her body was underfed with a few broken bones, she felt weirdly great.

Dahlia cocked her head to the side to listen out for any sounds, but aside from the faint snores of her obese uncle, the house was completely silent. She silently padded through the hallway to the kitchen and looked to the side of the fridge.

June twentieth, five o'clock in the morning.

 _Fuck yeah._ She didn't care if her companions had gotten lost somewhere, she wasn't staying a moment more than she had to in this house. The years of memories from her shitty childhood were more than enough, and she had no desire to add to them.

After a few seconds she shrugged her shoulders and opened the fridge to see a veritable mountain of food, food that she'd usually been denied because of her inner 'freakishness'. _Not anymore_. With a smug grin she reached up and pulled out everything that didn't need cooking – meat, leftover eggs, pies, fruit, anything she could reach – and put it into a carrier bag. Well, most of it. The rest she began to eat and she sat at the pristine table, gleefully leaving as many crumbs as possible on the shiny surface. _From me to you, Aunt Petunia_.

A sound of a branch cracking outside the door had her up and hidden behind the fridge in less than a second. Just because she couldn't remember something like this happening before didn't mean it couldn't happen now. Merlin only knew how much Vernon had bragged to his colleagues about the things he owned. Moron.

"Come now Severus, you know we have a duty to help young Dahlia."

"Do we? I seem to remember 'young Dahlia' as a brat that'll probably do whatever she wants, regardless of our own actions. It wouldn't surprise me if she's already getting ready to run away."

Dahlia turned to the bag of food and frowned. _Damn. I hate it when he's right. Bastard._

She came out from her hiding place, grabbing her stolen goods as she did, and casually walked over to the back door and opened it.

After it swung open she came face-to-face with her afterlife companions and took notice of how much calmer the two looked now than they had during the war. At the moment Snape was glaring at her, though if she looked carefully she could see deeply-hidden concern as his onyx eyes raked over her skinny frame.

The old Headmaster had a beaming grin on his face – and she still hadn't written off the 'constantly high' theory – as he looked down at her.

"Dahlia! How are you, my dear?"

"Getting ready to run away," she said, shooting a glare at Snape to shut him up before the smug git said something, "which I will be doing regardless of what you say.

"If you plan on leaving me here, I will stab you."

Her flat glare and violent proclamation was met with hearty laughter from Dumbledore and an eye-roll from Snape.

"Whatever brat. Now hold on, we're leaving."

She mused how she never would have expected Severus Snape to offer her his hand without violence years ago, and here she was gladly accepting it.

"Lead on, Severino."

As the party of three left with a loud crack, murderous mumbling and amused chuckles, the residents of Privet Drive slept on unaware, and the Dursley's were finally left unburdened by magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people!
> 
> For new readers, welcome to my story, and to people that follow me, yes, I really am starting a new story despite having five stories on the go already (and another three on my hard drive).
> 
> I only wrote this because someone asked, and I'd like to thank BookFan96 on FFN for giving me the inspiration to actually start this. I've had this idea on my profile on FFN for a while, so I had a go at writing an initial chapter to see how it goes.
> 
> I will warn people I have literally no idea where this story is going; no plotting, no overarching story, nothing. I literally wrote this in four hours before I posted this. I have no plan, and so there will be no update schedule unlike my other fics. I'm afraid people will have to contend with sporadic updates as I'd rather not force myself to churn out chapters for certain deadlines and have them be sub-par because of a lack of enthusiasm on my part.
> 
> That being said, I hope you guys like it, and I'll see you next time! :D


	2. Well, that's convenient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Dahlia peered into the mirror and realised she looked really fucking cute without glasses.

True, she was still in a ten-year-old body that hadn't had a decent meal in fuck knows when, her limbs were thin and spindly with knobbly knees and whatnot, not to mention the pinched look to her face from the clearly shitty life, but her eyes were really big and kind of glowed.

She totally had the puppy eyes down.

Her hair was a disaster zone unfortunately. If she remembered rightly – not that she could really remember much of what the fuck was happening when she was imagining not being there and praying for her escape from hell; she definitely wasn't reminding Brian of her crappy childhood at every possible opportunity, no siree – Aunt Petunia had been determined to keep her hair a bird's nest just so that she wasn't attractive in any way. Dahlia though that her aunt really needed to get over her inferiority complex from her youth, but perhaps she wasn't the best person to speak to about issues?

… _Nah. I'm a great person to talk to._

But back to the mirror. She had a totally cute face, even if she managed to look both like a girl and like her dad; was James Potter girly when he was a kid or something? She'd eventually learnt that growing her hair out made it infinitely more manageable than the mop that made her look like a boy wearing a skirt, so she really needed to grow it out. Like now.

"Severino …"

"Don't call me that!"

_Why he keeps telling me that I'll never know. If I didn't stop the first thousand times, why does he think it'll happen now? For a supposed genius, he's kind of an idiot._

She turned around to see the man in question glaring at her, though she marvelled at the differences to last time. Apparently the lack of stress over whether or not he'd die at the hands of one insane man or another – Tom and Brian would both fill a Mind-Healer's pockets for life – had prompted him to actually care for himself, and his hair was free of grease from the various potions fumes – another point in the 'Potions is a stupid career choice' category – and his teeth had been fixed with some medical spells. Though she suspected that last part was Brian interfering for the fun of it.

It was also bloody weird to actually be in his personal quarters without him being forced to let her in. Dahlia Potter was in the personal living space of Severus Snape without him trying to kill her even the slightest bit.

Forget time travel and coming back to life, this was the biggest miracle she'd ever experienced.

Severino actually had rather ordinary tastes, everything in beige with chocolate accents. Who knew the infamous dungeon bat was a closet interior designer? He'd never bothered with this crap in the afterlife, but then again their weird little home had already been put together for them, so he hadn't exactly needed to do anything. She wondered if he found if therapeutic; you know, decorate the room instead of killing random kids when they pissed him off.

… When she thought about, she was pretty damn lucky to have survived as long as she did living in the same place as this arsehole.

He walked over to her and handed her a mug of hot chocolate topped with cream – just how she liked it – before frowning at her. "What do you want now, brat?"

She blinked up at him innocently, inwardly gleeful at the instant wariness that appeared in his onyx eyes. Yes, they'd more or less made up – being stuck together hadn't exactly given them much of an opportunity otherwise, though she would forevermore cherish the memories of him dodging her spellfire – but there was no way she would ever give up fucking with him. Firstly, he'd been a twat to her when she was younger. Secondly – and much more importantly – it was entertaining as hell.

"Well, I'd like to thank you for helping me get some clothes and contact lenses, it's quite nice to wear something that doesn't look like a tent. Not to mention actually being able to see. I hadn't realised I was quite that blind."

She shook her head and refocused, smiling widely like the innocent child she _totally_ was. "Anyway, I was wondering if you might help me with a Hair-Growth potion. Right now it's a nightmare, and I miss my long hair.

"Please?"

Dahlia knew full well he wasn't really fooled, but nevertheless the man – was he really a man? She remembered hearing the vampire theory more than once, and it did kind of make sense – rolled his eyes and stalked back to his personal stores, grumbling under his breath as he did. He was probably bitching about her father, but why he thought she could control who she was born as, she had no clue.

Seriously, Lily Evans and James Potter being horny teenagers and getting married right out of school with a kid on the way at nineteen really wasn't her fault. And no offense to her parents – they did sacrifice themselves for her, after all; obligatory parental respect, and all that – but in what world did having a kid as teenagers in a war seem like a good idea?

Wizards had no bloody common sense, Dahlia was convinced.

A flicker out the corner of her eye caught her attention, and her hand flew to the object coming towards her face instinctively, catching the very thing Severino had thought would be funny to lob at her head at full speed.

Dahlia turned her fist over and opened her hand, looking down at the small vial in her hand. She grinned, the expression rather maniacal for such an innocuous-looking item.

It was all part of her plan, after all.

* * *

"Just a quick question before we start – 'cause I don't know about you, but I've got a feeling we're going to be stuck here for fucking ages trying to figure this crap out – am I even allowed to be here?"

"No."

She turned to the black-haired man and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was blunt."

Brian smiled genially after sending his patented 'I-know-I'm-not-actually-your-grandfather-but-I'm-going-to-act-like-it-and-you've-done-something-stupid-that-I'm-going-to-keep-bringing-up-to-guilt-trip-you-into-doing-what-I-want-because-I-know-you-wouldn't-do-it-otherwise' look to Severino, and beamed at the room as he tried to take control.

Not that he really had it. Snape seemed to have given up caring at this point, and she didn't have a single fuck to give about the old man's power.

"Now, now, there's no need to become irate. While Severus was technically correct that you shouldn't be here in the castle as you're not yet a student, my dear, there is the fact that I am also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Hogwarts is my official residence, so if somebody wanted to meet me, I am more than able to invite them to where I live to conduct an interview or have a discussion.

"Such as a discussion about a falsely-incarcerated prisoner of Azkaban."

Dahlia heard Snape snort in the background, but she was still trying to reconcile the casually-manipulative words wrapped in a blasé tone with the cheerful looking elderly man happily eating Kola Cubes.

"You're such a bloody politician."

Dumbledore frowned, though the twinkle in his blue eyes gave away his mirth. "How rude, my dear girl. I don't think I've ever been so offended."

"If you want, I could always add to the –"

"ENOUGH!"

Dahlia and Dumbledore turned as one to see an irate Snape pinching the bridge of his nose. She wondered if this was his go-to pose now, he did kind of seem stressed and pissed off all the time now. Maybe she should dial back the mischief before he got an ulcer?

… _Or not._

Brian absentmindedly offered her a packet of Kola Cubes, and she grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth. "You okay there, Severino? You're looking a little miffed about something."

"Indeed, he looks just like your grandfather did whenever someone insulted his name. Did you know he actually once spelled a professor bald upon being mocked? Ms Blishwick was never quite the same again after that, I'm afraid. I believe she went into self-imposed exile with thirty Kneazles on the Isle of Mann."

"Wow, that house must stink."

"Perhaps, though I was always under the impression that Kneazles were much more courteous about their bathroom habits than regular cats. Did you know that the delightful creatures have also been known to look for human help in times of peril?"

Before she could reply, Snape slammed a book on the table to get their attention. Which was so bloody rude, did he really think they were so unaware of things that he had to resort to violence just to be heard? It wasn't as if she did things like that, no she did not. (Dahlia maintained that she was not in fact a violent person, just one predisposed to the – very much needed – act of retribution.)

"Need I remind you that at this point in time, there is in fact an insane Dark Lord still alive and willing to murder anyone to succeed in his endeavours? That he will shortly be possessing one Quirinus Quirrell and be invading this school? That doesn't even to get into the multitude of Horcruxes lying about anchoring the insane man to this world. Have you two even thought about what we're going to do?"

Dahlia huffed and wrinkled her nose. "Way to bring the mood down, Severino."

"Indeed, it is always such a shame that people focus more on the negative than what is good in life," Brian said as he nodded his head sedately.

"Just so we're clear, I hate the pair of you, and you're both in dire need of psychological help."

"That's just rude," she said flatly.

"I am over a hundred, Severus. It would be stranger if I didn't have a few screws loose at my age."

The girl side-eyed the cheerful old man who'd just happily admitted to having mental issues and wondered if he should be so happy about that. Then again, Brian really didn't seem to care too much about what he should or shouldn't be happy about now. Ever since his journey of working through his issues – or the worst of them, at least; he was _old_ , and Dahlia knew full well he had a crap ton of weird shit in his life, even without their magical journey back to life – he'd been even more wacked than usual, and his ability to care about certain things had been strained. Or it had just dissolved, she really wasn't too sure.

(Dahlia couldn't help but be grateful the old quack hadn't procreated, she dreaded to think of what his children would have been like.)

"So," she interrupted, "you want to plan for Tom-I-have-daddy-issues-a-mile-long-Riddle. How exactly do you plan on dealing with him? 'Cause as I see it, we legitimately only have the means to deal with the ring and the diadem right now.

"The locket is in Grimmauld Place right now so we need Sirius free – don't look at me like that Severino, even if you don't like him, you know full well spending a decade in Dementor Wonderland is punishment enough for the werewolf thing – so he can get it for us. Not to mention him being in charge of the Black family, that could really be useful at some point."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Dahlia dear, you do realise Sirius' grandfather Arcturus – Lord Black - is still alive at this point in time, don't you?"

She blinked bewilderedly. "Then why the fuck is Siri still in prison? What a shitty grandfather."

"Who cares?" Severino snorted before rolling his eyes at her glare. _Immature twat_. "The point remains – and it certainly galls me to agree with her – but the brat is correct. We lack the means to gain possession of the diary and the cup. Unless of course you two plan on robbing the bank and an ancestral manor blind?"

"Well …"

She and Snape turned to look at the old man stroking his beard thoughtfully, though the glint in the blue eyes made her a little wary. _Jesus fuck, what's he up to?_

"While it saddens me that crime is the path forward, we must make choices that don't always align with our personal beliefs."

"You can't be serious," Snape deadpanned. "Are you actually advocating for us breaking into buildings and stealing from people? _You?_ "

"It's a shame Dobby isn't here," she muttered as she picked at her Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

A loud crack permeated the room, and the three human occupants looked to the middle of the floor in shock to see a small house-elf with a tattered pillowcase and tennis-ball green eyes, looking around the room with confusion as he fidgeted in place.

"How can Dobby be helping young Mistress he didn't know was Mistress?"

She couldn't help it. She started cackling and fell off her chair as she wheezed at the situation, losing herself in hysterics at Dobby's mere presence. How else was she supposed to react to something so convenient dropping into their laps from her musing? She felt tears in her eyes as she laughed, overcome at how bloody ridiculous their lives were now.

"I do believe that is plot-powered convenience."

Dahlia hiccoughed and snorted. Severino wasn't wrong, after all.

_Welcome to the mayhem, Dobby._

* * *

After eventually calming down – she needed to start getting used to being a wide-eyed innocent kid again, even if the snarky bat kept sniping at her ideas – Dahlia was peering down at Dobby with a small frown as the creature was valiantly trying not to hyperventilate and praise the 'great Dahlia Potter'.

Poor thing. He had no clue what was to come.

She turned back to the Headmaster. "Any idea how _this_ insanity came to be?"

Before the _great and knowledgeable_ Albus Dumbledore could impart his vaunted wisdom upon her – and really, exactly how did their country get into the habit of never thinking for themselves? They all had their heads' so far up their own arses they were suffering from a lack of oxygen, that was clearly the only explanation – a familiar, yet irritating voice piped up from the corner.

"What party's complete without a mascot?"

Dahlia turned with dread to see who she assumed was Death – seriously, what was his actual appearance? – leaning up against one of the bookshelves underneath the frozen portraits, grinning maniacally and looking as carefree as can be.

_What the fuck?_ "Okay, there are so many things wrong with this picture," she critiqued while she gestured round the room. "Firstly, we're alive again, so why are you here and not in the land of the dead terrorising some other poor sod who bit the dust or something? Secondly, since when were we a party? Don't turn us into some crappy version of whatever game you're focused on now. Also, Dobby is a Malfoy elf, why is he _here_? And lastly and most importantly, why the bloody hell are you dressed as a character from a game that doesn't come out until the mid-2000s?"

Death, also looking like a dead ringer for the protagonist Hero from _Dragon Quest VIII_ – which she would admit was actually brilliant, and she'd lost so many hours trying to complete that bloody thing; why were the dragons at the end so _hard_? – waved at all three of them individually, nonchalantly ignoring the infamous Snape Death Glare – he should totally get that patented – and yet another attempt at disappointment from everyone's favourite barmy old man before he turned to her with a smirk. (Which was _wrong_ , Hero didn't smirk, he was silent and calm, and this imbecile was _ruining_ it.)

"In order: I'm bored and you all amuse me –"

"That is a most unfortunate way of entertaining oneself."

"– you are indeed my personal party, which I like to call 'Team: Living Dead' –"

"That's not how Necromancy works, you imbecilic twit!"

"– Dobby is here because I felt like helping with just this one little thing –"

"Why? What do you get out of it?"

"– and lastly, I felt like giving you a reprieve from your withdrawal symptoms. You know, the ones you have because every single game you adore hasn't been released yet and won't be for several years."

Dahlia glared. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I don't have withdrawal symptoms." She absolutely refused to remember or even acknowledge the scream of frustration and ensuing bout of depression she fell into upon realising that _Final Fantasy VII_ didn't come out until 1997. Nope, didn't happen, no way in hell.

(She was still distraught, but come hell or high water she would be pre-ordering that when it was released, and if she had to buy an entirely muggle house to play the damn thing, she would bleed the Potter accounts _dry_.)

The girl knew full well the bastard in front of her was just being sadistic by mentioning her beloved games – and if he morphed into Cloud again, she would kick him the balls muggle-style, magical and mystical personification of Death he was, be damned – but there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of letting him see her misery.

Then there was the case of Dobby.

"Seriously, what the flying fuck do you get out of Dobby being here? I assume he's here to help with the diary, but isn't that a little too convenient?"

Hero-Death shifted and nodded with a bemused expression. "I suppose you're right in one respect, but honestly it was just because of Lucius Malfoy. Really and truly he was supposed to die during the Battle of Hogwarts, and it pissed me right off when he managed to make it through alive. You wouldn't _believe_ how many people Malfoy Sr. could've saved if he weren't so self-serving."

"So what you're saying," Snape began with a shrewd look on his face, "is that you're willing to screw someone over for petty revenge?"

Death nodded with a grin. _What a bastard._

"Am I wrong to assume you would do the same to us?"

The grin widened and Death stood up straight. "Of course I'd do the same to you! Where would the fun be otherwise?"

With an emphatic nod, the past denizens of the land of the dead were left alone with a comically-confused house-elf blinking at Dahlia with awe.

Said girl turned to her male companions with a raised brow. "Okay, diary down. What about the cup?"

"About that …"

Dahlia turned to the old man with a suspicious look in her green eyes, a look that was only deepened by the shifty look on his face and the way he wasn't meeting her eyes.

"Brian, I swear to fucking _Merlin_ , what have you done?"

He huffed. "I have not _done_ anything, my dear, I simply remembered something that might assist us in this matter. It might be best to get an inheritance test at Gringotts. My research only helps so far."

Dumbledore turned to her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Have you ever actually seen a copy of your family tree?"

… _Oh sweet Jesus, this isn't going to be good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I apologise for my terrible sense of humour, but I seem to have given up at this point lol.
> 
> Yes, my idea for the diary was terribly convenient, but that was kind of the point. This story is ridiculous, so ridiculous things happen. (Does anyone think I should add a tag for Crack?)
> 
> I hope you guys like it, and I'll see you next time I have the time and motivation to write another chapter.
> 
> See ya!


	3. Denial is the way to live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. This _can’t_ be mine."

The words were accompanied by a hand roughly pushing the parchment back across the table and a bland smile that did nothing to disguise the promise of pain on their face.

“Actually, I think you’ll find there was no mistake. _Keep it_.”

It slid back in the hands of someone who looked far too amused at the mental pain they were causing.

“I don’t want it.”

“It’s yours.”

“Take it back.”

“It’s not mine, brat!”

“What part of ‘I don’t want it’ do you not understand?! You bastard pain in the arse piece of –”

“I’m sorry, what was that? I was paying more attention to your _delightful_ family –”

“I’m going to ram my _foot_ up your –”

A throat clearing obnoxiously loudly interrupted the bickering duo, and they turned as one to see their companion looking far too pleased with himself as he feasted on what appeared to be mint humbugs. He looked to be completely oblivious to the tension in the room as he slowly added to his rising blood sugar – maybe they should start teaching about dietary problems at Hogwarts? Diabetes and obesity were no joke – or maybe he was just so used to their constant arguments after so many years together that he automatically tuned them out.

Dahlia wasn’t going to let him languish in peace.

“Brian!” she wailed. “How could you do this to me?! I could have gone my whole life, even take two, completely ignorant of this disgusting mess, but thanks to you I want to gouge my eyes out after seeing this travesty!”

Her – _not_ insane, thank you very much; it was called _vehemence_ , she just wanted to get her point across – words were accompanied by a waving hand gesturing at that _ghastly_ piece of parchment that had just destroyed her sense of self. Honestly, why hadn’t her ancestors done any research themselves?

“Don’t make me gouge my eyes out, I’ve just started to see clearly for once!”

Snape snorted. “Yes, because your ability to see is the issue here.”

Dahlia grabbed the piece of parchment and waved it in the bastard’s face with a glare. “Do you see this? _Do you?!_ How would you feel if this was yours, huh? Would you be happy about this? Because I really could have gone my whole life without knowing this.

“Have you never heard of the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’?!”

“At least we can get the cup now.”

She turned to the crazy old man and resisted the urge to blast him into the wall – private room or not, she had a feeling the goblins wouldn’t be thrilled if she turned their bank into an impromptu duelling ring; though that could be her not inviting them to join in, goblins were weird – and attempted to hurt him through visual anger alone.

“Really? We can get the cup now? I suppose that random fact makes this all better? Though I’d appreciate you explaining just how this _miraculous_ discovery just _magically_ allows us access to the highly-guarded vault of an Inner Circle incarcerated Death Eater.”

Her speech was so dry and laden with sarcasm that she was surprised the barmy coot wasn’t cringing. _Tch. I’ve bloody made him acclimatise, haven’t I?_

“Wow,” Snape drawled with an arched brow, “I’m almost impressed by your ability to state the understated. Some might say I’m even proud.”

“Gee, thanks Severino. I’ll make sure to remember your kind words when I’m reintroducing you to Sirius. Maybe you’ll even get along this time, who knows?”

“And then you open your mouth again,” he deadpanned.

Dumbledore cleared his throat – and she was just a _little_ sad he didn’t choke on a sweet; I mean, she didn’t _really_ want him dead. Much – before smiling at her with an expression that was like a flashing sign pronouncing to all around that he had several dozen screws loose up top. Seriously, he looked more than a little touched in the head. There was no way he should beam like a demented moron where people could see him. He was supposed to be the Headmaster and a respected government official. (Though considering the other people that worked at the Ministry, Brian fit right in.)

“Now, now, my dear. Let's not get too upset over this insignificant fact –”

“I guarantee my nightmares won’t be insignificant.”

“– that truly doesn’t change anything about you –“

“Except my desire to projectile vomit across the parchment itself.”

“– and is in fact a useful way to gain what we desire, which is in this case access to Helga Hufflepuff’s cup.”

He beamed once more – _Merlin, he needs some meds_ – before twinkling his eyes at her. “Fortunately, politics once more proves to be on our side. Did you know that being the magical guardian of an underage child grants a person access and even control over all assets that that child is set to inherit in the future?”

“So that’s how you stole my cloak,” Dahlia replied flatly.

“Anyway,” Dumbledore said loudly, ignoring both her very valid statement and Snape’s eyes rolling, “if that child is in line to inherit a family, and is in fact the current Heir or Heiress, then that child’s magical guardian is able to become the proxy of said family.”

Dahlia wrinkled her nose. “Okay, totally bullshit, but considering the backwards ways of our world I can’t say I’m surprised. What I’m more concerned about is the fact that I’m _not_ the Heiress to that."

“For once she’s right,” came the silky and mocking tone from her side. Would it kill the bat to be nice to her? She hadn’t said a thing about the vampire thing, give her _some_ credit!

“She isn’t set to inherit that family, so this conversation seems to be good for nothing except reminding the brat of her delightfully fortunate luck in gaining relations such as those.”

Before she could open her mouth – she was _sure_ the goblins wouldn’t mind as long as she invited them to torture Severino with her – Brian flashed his oh-so-sincere smile at them and pointed to a specific piece of the parchment that, despite looking a little worse for wear, was still legible enough to give her the shivers upon reading it.

“Except for the fact that she’s from the main line, and the line that inherited was from a branch of the main line.” Dumbledore twinkled at her again. “This marker next to your name indicates that you are indeed the magical Heiress.”

A beat of silence. “There’s also the fact that every other person available is either dead or in prison, but the fact remains that the family is yours.”

Brian sat back and popped yet two more humbugs in his mouth – it was a good thing magicals had dental hygiene spells or they’d have no teeth with some of the crap they ate on a daily basis – before humming in satisfaction.

“You are actually the Heiress to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Lestrange.”

_I would actually rather off myself than admit to that._

Dahlia cringed. “But I don’t want it!”

“Stop whinging!” snapped the dungeon bat. “Why must you persist in revolting against something that you can’t change?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you’d happily admit to being related to Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. I dare you.”

Apparently her glare when unimpeded by ugly thick glasses was even more effective – a fact she would be taking advantage of as much as physically possible – and Severino subtly paled and leant back in his seat, studiously ignoring her as he looked over her family tree.

Her beloved family tree which had revealed _way_ too many secrets that she was pissed off she hadn’t known before. She had a Lestrange great-great-grandmother that had apparently gone by a different name after running away from the family – not that Dahlia could blame her, to be honest – and said woman had actually been the first-born before escaping with her life and sanity intact. (She seemed like a bloody smart woman.)

Then there was her great-however-many-times-grandmother who’d done the same thing as the Lestrange woman, but instead she’d fled the bloody _Gaunt_ family with all her might and had ended up marrying into the Potters. So somewhere along the line she was also cousins to Tom-I'm-going-to-be-a-total-narcissist-and-make-my-super-cool-bad-guy-name-by-rearranging-my-actual-name-which-no-one-will-notice-because-I'm-so-much-better-than-everyone-else-Riddle. _Ick_. Granted they were something like fifth cousins with practically no share blood at all, but blood was still blood.

Sirius wasn’t joking when he said all pure-blood families were related. What a bloody joke.

Then, to top it all off with a massive ‘fuck you' cherry on top, she’d apparently managed to go to school with someone who was close enough to have ‘first cousin’ in their relationship title without even knowing.

_Like, what the fuck?_

“Quick question, exactly why didn’t anyone tell me that _Theodore Nott_ was my first cousin?”

“First cousin once removed,” Severino muttered with a bored tone.

She flashed the middle finger. “Oh bite me, you pedantic arse.”

Dahlia turned to the older man while ignoring – but very much appreciating – the throbbing vein in Severino’s head. Honestly, it was quite depressing that even after years together he hadn’t figured out that acting more open would make her stop. She just liked fucking with his Slytherin mask, so if there was no mask, there would be no nit-picking. Ergo, toss the mask. Logic. Common sense. _Duh_.

And people said she was dumb. She was _brilliant_. Completely.

“Dahlia dear, I do believe we’ve been over this. We had no way of knowing that you hadn’t researched your own family tree and discovered this fact on your own.”

She pasted a flat look on her face. “And you what? Thought that I’d completely avoid my closest magical relative even though we were the same age and went to school together despite my only other chance at family being the _Dursleys_?”

There was an uncomfortable silence as the men realised in hindsight how utterly stupid that sounded and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Being a genius didn’t change how scarce common sense seemed to be with the two men. _Magic really does make you a spaz, doesn’t it?_

“Okay. So somehow I’m the long-lost magical Heiress to the Lestrange family – which I’m still calling bullshit on by the way, magic shouldn’t work like that – so we can get the cup now. Right?”

“After you don the Heiress ring,” came the overly-cheerful reply.

“Right. Lack of magical common sense aside, we now have the means to get the diadem, the ring, the cup –”

“Thanks to your delightful heritage.”

“– and the diary –”

“Because of the erratic and insane plans of the thankfully-absentee imbecile that brought us here.”

“– which means we just need to get into Grimmauld Place for the locket. Seeing as how Sirius’ most-likely evil and mad grandfather is still alive –”

“My dear,” interrupted Brian with a small frown, “exactly how is Arcturus Black evil and mad?”

 _And people say I don’t use my brain._ “Evil: he left his grandson in Azkaban despite the fact he probably knows Sirius’ Gryffindor pride wouldn’t let him betray my dad, and mad: he let – or maybe even made, I don’t know what happened – his son marry his own close cousin. That's just gross.”

The three of them had identical slightly-queasy expressions on their faces at the idea of the incestuous Black marriage. Perhaps it had something to do with them all being half-bloods raised around muggles, but not one of them could see any benefit to ending up with someone so closely related. Sirius was lucky he didn’t have twelve toes or something.

“Got it in one, Dahlia!”

_Please just kill me now._

She turned with slight dread to see everyone’s favourite interfering arsehole – she couldn’t help but wonder if the goblins had their own form of magic that let them know if the magical personification of death had just casually strolled through their centuries-old and extremely dangerous wards – dressed as yet another video game character from yet another franchise that Dahlia enjoyed playing but currently couldn’t. But at least it wasn’t Cloud.

“Solid Snake? _Really?_ ”

The man (she still wasn’t entirely sure; there had been a few female personas from time to time) frowned playfully while grinning, ruining the persona of yet another beloved character that did _not_ grin like that, bloody hell couldn’t he at least stay in character, why did he have to _aggravate_ her like this?

“Hey! I had to sneak in here, you know. Sneaking, stealth, a stealth character, therefore Solid Snake. It makes _perfect_ sense.”

“Yeah, if you’re a dunderhead,” muttered Severino. Dahlia would admit he had a point.

Death pouted – the sight gave her a migraine – before sighing. “And here I thought I’d give you a helping hand. I come here of my own free will, ready and able to help you on your mission to destroy Voldemort, and yet you can't even muster up the slightest bit of gratitude? I don’t think words are enough to explain how slighted I feel!”

“I don’t think words are enough to explain how much you piss me off,” she deadpanned.

“Ah, but you don’t need words. I can read your mind, remember?”

 _Read this_ , she thought as she started mentally reciting every disgusting and crude insult she could think of. _Take that, bastard._

“How rude, I –”

“Not to question your intentions, but exactly why are you here? You said that you were here to provide assistance, yet you haven’t clarified what about.” It was amazing how polite Brian could seem when he was probably plotting the idiot’s murder, but Dahlia supposed he had worked with hormonal and stupid teenagers for the better part of a century. When she thought about it, it was bloody weird he hadn’t gone completely around the bend decades ago. Or just left Britain riding his flaming bird and showering them with Every Flavour Beans as he twinkled his eyes. It seemed like it could have been a possibility.

The dark eyes of the annoying interloper flicked to her and glinted with amusement, probably at once more invading her mind like a psychic paedophile; _don’t look at me like that you twat, do you have any idea how bloody creepy it is to just go strolling through the thoughts of a young girl without permission?_

… Which when she thought about it did _not_ put the best spin on her Occlumency lessons all those years in some direction she still wasn’t one hundred percent on. (Seriously, was their situation actually classified under time travel? Or was the oh-so-powerful being of Death above such titles?)

“Mister Dumbledore, I’ll have you know I was just getting to that part.” Dahlia thought he sounded far too chipper at helping; what was up with that? “I was just going to inform you that Sirius Black still has access to Grimmauld Place so he can enter whenever he wants to get the locket for you. I’m sure you have _some_ plan for convincing him.”

She did _not_ appreciate that pointed look, thank you very much. She was just going to ask him, that’s all. Perfectly polite and normal, and _for fuck’s sake stop looking at me like I’m mad, I am an everyday cute and innocent child, end of discussion!_

“Anyway,” Death said, looking at her just a tad warily as she tried to glare him into submission – why couldn’t she try? She was supposed to be the _Master_ of Death, not one of Death’s playthings, the stupid fucker – as the men also looked none too pleased at his appearance. “I just thought that I would be my usual kind and supportive self – and Dahlia, that language really isn’t suited to a young woman of your station, please do refrain – in assisting you with taking out the one and only Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort.

“Ciao!”

The silence in the wake of the moron’s exit was on the one hand quite blissful – no Death, no Severino, no Brian, it was _glorious_ , and why the bloody hell couldn’t her life just be _quiet_ for once? – though she started to frown. The git seemed unusually focused on making sure that Voldy bit the dust again. He was _Death_ , surely it wasn’t beyond his capabilities to make sure the insane spirit found a suitably gruesome – and final – demise?

He wanted –

 _Wait_. Dahlia stopped before a somewhat maniacal grin crept across her face, quite happily ignoring the worried looks and mutters at her expression – _and no, Severino, I am_ not _fitting in with the Lestranges, you overgrown bat, I’m just_ happy _, can’t you let me be?_ – as she pondered over their seemingly-eternal benefactor-come-menace.

Death needed to learn they didn’t play to his whims.

“Gentlemen, I may have an offer for you.”

She grinned at their confusion. This was going to be so much fun.

* * *

“Hey Brian, aren’t these things illegal?”

“I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘heavily-frowned upon’, my dear. Besides, I have three incredibly powerful and influential positions, each of which grant me leeway in several different areas without even making me an enemy of our government.”

The casual and upbeat words did nothing to erase her scepticism, and she turned to mouth the word ‘politician’ at Severino. The black-haired man looked pained but nodded and agreed with her all the same.

Dahlia took a moment to remember this moment. _Today will be forever remembered as the miraculous day that granted Dahlia Euphemia Potter the unrestricted agreement and camaraderie of one Severus Tobias Snape. This day will be forever known as the anniversary of the Potter-Snape feud coming to a beautiful end … for a while, anyway._

The girl rolled her eyes but turned back to the trio’s newest acquisition – a trunk. But of course, this was no ordinary trunk. On the outside it was as regular as that of the average student, but the inside was where the slight bending – or outright ignoring, as Dahlia expected the truth to be – of their venerated Ministry’s laws came into play.

Though imagining Minister Fudge trying to arrest Brian made her want to giggle. The last – or was it next? Being in the past was bloody weird, if you asked her – time the portly prat tried that, Brian make a total twat of him by flashing away with a phoenix in front of Fudge and his contingent of suck-ups. And Kingsley. (Kingsley was cool.)

Anyway, the trunk. The inside had been slapped with so many Expansion Charms and spacial-reconfiguration spells she was surprised the magic hadn’t collapsed on itself and ripped the trunk into nothingness. It looked to be some hybrid between Real-Moody's trunk from fourth year and the rumours of the infamous suitcase of Newt Scamander. (The former badger sounded so _cool_ , and she wondered if she could talk Brian into setting up a meeting with his former student. Maybe she could guilt-trip him about her childhood …)

As Dahlia lost herself in her plans to manipulate and possibly outright blackmail one of magical Britain’s most powerful individuals – not that she’d _ever_ admit to something so immoral; she was just a child, she would _never_ do something so horrible – Snape looked at the older man muttering some concealment spells over the trunk.

“Albus, do you honestly think this to be the wisest course of action?”

The older man paused in his casting and turned to Snape before beaming. “Heavens no!”

_Merlin, why do I have to endure this living nightmare?_

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation before meeting blue eyes head on. “If you don’t trust in this stupidity-riddled idea –”

“I heard that, Severino!”

“– then why would you agree to this course of action?”

Dumbledore stroked his beard with a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s not a matter of distrusting in young Dahlia’s ideas, Severus, it is simply trusting that there is always merit in exploring other avenues of action. Nobody here has definitive proof that things will go awry, however if they do our original plan remains. Nobody loses.”

Snape raised a brow. “Except Voldemort, you mean?”

“Voldemort doesn’t lose, he dies and does us all a favour,” Dumbledore explained cheerfully. “I would have thought that would be a given.”

The older man turned back to the trunk and double-checked the array of wards and concealment spells, ignoring his employee’s angry muttering with an ease that suggested many, many years of practice before nodding to himself.

“It’s done.”

One by one the trio pulled out the various Horcruxes they’d amassed and placed them in the trunk to be hidden, each one having their own compartment so as to not react to the others. The ring, cup, diadem and diary were now hidden and safe from anyone else, even if it’d taken a while to get Dobby to stop hyperventilating at the thanks from Dahlia and actually hand the bloody thing over.

Dahlia found it quite nostalgic.

“Well, what now?”

She grinned at Snape’s words and enjoyed his look of unease for a moment.

“It’s time to free your favourite dog.”

The immediate look of disgust made her laugh so hard she fell backwards on the sofa.

_See you soon, Dogfather._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry this chapter took a while, but honestly it's probably going to happen again considering how busy I am. Real life suck lol
> 
> I'm actually not too happy with this chapter, but it just wouldn't be written any other way. But Sirius will be here soon, and I have some sort of plan for his character. Well, Dahlia does anyway XD
> 
> I've got a couple of family trees going up on my deviantart for his in case you wanted to see just how the family relations played out. Honestly, I've gotten so into the habit of planning out family trees for my more serious fics that I just did it without thought lol.
> 
> Anyway, I'll try and get the next chapter out soon-ish, but I literally have no words written for it yet, so we'll see. Who knew writing crazy crack was so hard? lol
> 
> Until next time!


	4. This is going to go so wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Perhaps she should be a little more worried sitting here in a Wizengamot session watching her godfather get his long-awaited trial – it wasn’t as if the poor bloke had been in prison for an entire _decade_ at this point, of course not! The magical world wasn’t _that_ inept at keeping on top of things like trials and maintaining their own justice system; _bunch of fucking idiots_ – but she honestly couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but amusement seeing Brian casually rip into the Ministry about how much they’d fucked up, all with a cheerful demeanour looking like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“I suppose it must have been rather difficult to briefly read the files from _all_ eighty-something arrests from that year just to ensure appropriate procedures had been followed.”

“Sending the Heir of a Noble and Most Ancient House to Azkaban without a conviction isn’t the _worst_ thing that’s ever happened, I’m sure.”

“Myself? Surely you jest, Lord Malfoy! I wasn’t Chief Warlock at the time – or even a member of the Wizengamot – so how would I have known what occurred? Of _course_ I trusted my predecessors to have done their duty to our world, so I had no reason to suspect otherwise.

“You do seem rather invested in this case though, Lord Malfoy. Perhaps you can assist by calling your son and Heir, Lucius. After all, we all know he was the _unfortunate_ victim of the Imperious Curse during the war and was forced against his will to commit a _great_ many atrocities. His memories might still be intact of that time, memories which we can use both in this particular case and as a broader way to ensure other convictions were carried out appropriately. Perhaps him assisting us might allow for him to deal with some of the emotional turmoil that must come with the knowledge that one had been made to act in such a _vile_ manner against the very society one was a member of.

“What do you think, _Lord Malfoy_?”

The crazy old codger finished this particular verbal attack by looking over the tops of his glasses at Abraxas Malfoy, blue eyes twinkling in full force with a slight glint of amusement that wouldn’t be noticed unless you were looking for it. Or if you’d had to share an afterlife-home with the old coot who was clearly the poster-person for psychological illness. (Why else would he think letting a Voldemort-infested man waltz into the castle and start teaching impressionable eleven-year-olds was a good idea? Seriously, there was such a thing as keeping your enemies too close.)

A few titters echoed around the room and a red flush crawled across Malfoy Sr.’s face. Unsurprisingly, the blonde idiot decided to be a passive participant for the rest of the session. _The family’s whacked; three generations of the blonde prats decided to follow the same Dark Tosser. What's up with that? Or maybe they all fell for pictures of younger Tom?_ She took a moment to consider three generations of Malfoys all having repressed homosexual desires for a younger Tom Riddle and shrugged. Say what you will about his psychopathic tendencies, the man used to be _fine_.

It was pretty sad that all this posturing and bitching and whatnot was taking so long, and Sirius himself hadn’t even been brought out yet! Everyone was oh-so-subtly rubbing their status in each other's faces, casually throwing thinly-veiled insults around to remind everyone of certain people’s indiscretions, and their government would be down a fuck ton of members if staring alone had the ability to end a life. The phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was stupidly appropriate now.

The remaining elder Blacks – and Jesus fucking Christ, where the fuck had they all been before? Did they all just die one after the other in some sort of domino effect for the House of Black? There were waaaay too many of the crazy fuckers – were all sat together for some reason, torn between glaring the other Wizengamot members into submission – maybe for sending one of their own to Azkaban? Dahlia had no bloody clue what went through their insanity-infested minds – and glaring at each other like one big happy (and highly dysfunctional) family.

 _Thank_ fuck _I wasn’t born as one of them. They're all so – oh wait, there’s Sirius._

And indeed there he was, Sirius Black, Padfoot, crazy godfather extraordinaire, whatever you wanted to call the insane bastard that really was a Black no matter how much he denied it – _sorry Dogfather, but considering some of the crap you’ve pulled over the years, you fit right in with the House of Insanity (official title forevermore); maybe if you’d told your dear old mum you tried to feed someone to a werewolf as a teen she would have accepted you_ – he was here in all his pale, emaciated and gaunt glory. Seriously, he looked like shit, but considering she’d passed out less than a minute after seeing a Dememtor for the very first time, Dahlia supposed she couldn’t judge too much.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m almost concerned for Black’s health.”

Dahlia rolled her eyes at the blasé murmur from next to her and turned her head to her companion. “You know Severino, if you don’t want to say anything nice, you could always try not saying anything. You know, _silence_? That wonderful time when all those sarcastic and god-awful remarks are absent and I get to enjoy not hearing the endless crap spewing from your mouth.”

“Oh, _I’m_ the one spewing endless crap? I dread to think of what your peers at Hogwarts will think of your vulgar vocabulary. I pity any House that has to deal with you every day for the next seven years,” he sniped at her. _Wanker_.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, I am a perfectly innocent eleven-year-old child. Any House would be honoured to play host to a pure and happy girl such as myself, wouldn’t you agree?” Dahlia finished with a wide, disarming smile plastered across her face as she blinked innocently.

Severino snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a Gryffindor in disguise. The day I believe you to be pure and innocent is the day I admit Albus is sane.”

“Oh come on, you can’t compare me to that wacko!"

“I believe I just did.”

“Oh, you’re such a piece of –”

“And yet _I’m_ the one that speaks in a vile manner? You hypocritical little –”

“When we’re not in public I’m going to hex your b –”

Dahlia and Snape both jumped at the sound of a gavel banging loudly, interrupting both their bickering and the frantic whispering echoing around the chamber.

She frowned. “The fuck’s going on now?”

“Good question,” Snape muttered.

“Sirius Orion Black, you have been cleared of all charges – not that you were ever officially convicted of anything to begin with – and your stay in Azkaban terminated immediately. The sentence for your status as an illegal Animagus has been deducted from your unlawful incarceration thus far, and any remaining years of your – completely unprecedented – imprisonment will be reimbursed at a rate of 10,000G per year. All medical treatment required for this disgusting atrocity will be paid for by our willing and remorseful Ministry – as is their duty for this unmitigated disaster – and you are now free to go and live an unburdened life as you would have been for the past decade had our very own law enforcement officers not made such a monumental mistake which they then failed to rectify immediately as was their duty.”

Dumbledore beamed brightly at a comically bewildered Sirius and twinkled his eyes again. “I do hope you’ll visit my soon, my boy. I believe a rather dignified flower would like to see you once more.”

On the one hand Dahlia was torn between pissing herself in laughter at the sea of pale faces or cringing in second-hand embarrassment seeing her Headmaster casually remind everyone here of their fuck-up of truly epic proportions in this case – _understatement of the century_ – but on the other hand she was totally bewildered at what she was listening to.

“Did we miss the entire fucking trial?” Dahlia questioned incredulously.

“Maybe if you hadn’t kept whining you would have been able to support your poor godfather in his time of need. Dignified flower, my arse,” Snape scoffed.

She glared at the bastard. No, it wasn’t _funny_ that Dahlia flowers symbolised dignity and elegance, they were _so_ fucking appropriate for her, no matter what the overgrown bat thought. She was _totally_ dignified, thank you very much, and of course she was supporting Sirius, she loved him, but she also knew that he was innocent and that even if his sham of a trial didn’t work out – _only ten years too late, one hundred points to the Ministry!_ – she could totally get him out illegally with Severino and Brian. Well, maybe just Brian. Severino still wasn’t fond of Sirius. _I wonder why?_

Anyway, she was _so_ supporting Sirius right now. Severino could fuck off.

“I am supporting him. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Physically, perhaps, but what are you going to tell the mutt when he asks you about the trial?”

Dahlia waved a hand in the air. “Please! The dude’s just spent the past god knows how many minutes doped up on Truth Serum. Like he’ll be able to remember jack shit about this courtroom.”

The man arched a brow and smirked nastily. “Really? Are you so sure about that? I wasn’t aware you’d studied Veritaserum so extensively so as to intimately know its functions.”

She paused for a second and side-eyed the man with a frown. “Err … is he? Going to remember, I mean.”

Snape faced the front with a smug look on his face. “Good question.”

“Severino –”

Suddenly people got up and started exiting and Dahlia looked around bewilderedly. _For fuck’s sake, did we miss_ everything _?_

“Ah, there you are. I do believe it’s time for us to retire to the castle.”

She looked up to see Brian beaming at them like the demented genius he was – _a living oxymoron if there ever was one_ – and she glared at him. “I thought Sirius was free now, where is he?”

“Not here, my girl. Nobody actually knows who you are – fantastic job with the muggle disguise, by the way – but this certainly isn’t the place to continue this particular conversation.”

The older man cheerfully beckoned her and Severino to follow him out the courtroom, and as he walked out he offered every single person trying to sneak a confession or titillating piece of news from the esteemed Chief Warlock a sherbet lemon, all the while grinning widely and offering varying pieces of useless advice ranging from how to deal with poltergeists – which Dahlia rather doubted his expertise on considering the maddening continued existence of Peeves; though that could be Brian’s shot to fuck sense of humour, who knows? – and telling anybody and everybody just how they could spruce up their wardrobe to match the horrifically-blinding colour scheme that was Albus Dumbedore’s everyday robes. (Considering he was in garish scarlet and purple with real twinkling stars right now, people (quite rightly) power-walked away from the barmy old codger the first chance they got. _Hey, look! Actual common sense from witches and wizards in the Ministry of Magic, it’s a miracle!_ )

Once the party of three managed to get through the building, drawing more than a few curious looks at Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and an unknown girl with mousy brown and pale blue eyes being together – it was pretty damn sad that such simple things as hair dye and contacts were so underestimated, but like _hell_ was Dahlia not going to take advantage of it – Brian gently took her arm and Side-Alonged her to the gates of Hogwarts, Severino landing next to them a split-second later.

“Alright, where the fuck did Siri go?” she asked as she pulled free, turning to glare up at the two men – damn her midget status – with her arms crossed. “I thought the point was to get him free and end up with us, not god knows where doing who knows what?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Eloquent as usual.”

“Says the man that couldn’t come up with a better insult than ‘Potter' for the better part of seven years,” she shot back with narrowed eyes.

“At least I –”

“Anyway,” Brian jumped in – _he must still be in a diplomatic mood after the meeting of headless chickens, oh, excuse me, the_ esteemed _Wizengamot that presides over our_ illustrious _magical community_ – while smiling genially, absentmindedly popping another ball of condensed sugar designed to rot his teeth into his mouth, “to answer your question, dearest Dahlia, Sirius is still a member of the House of Black, their Heir in fact, and so has returned to the family fold for his time of convalescence.”

There was complete silence in the wake of Brian’s absurd bullshit, and a glance to the side showed even Severino was gazing at the old man with a look of aghast confusion on his pale face, looking as if he was joining Dahlia on her quest to figure out what the fuck Albus Dumbledore was even thinking.

Apparently he wasn’t.

“Brian!” Dahlia shrieked in panic. “I wanted Sirius free so he could get healthy and sane again, not crack and turn into Walburga Black 2.0! If he’s back with the crazies, god only knows how he’ll turn out!"

“Albus,” said Severino slowly, almost as if approaching a confused animal (the comparison wasn’t lost on her), “you do remember those of the older generation of Blacks that are still alive, don’t you? Even without the ones that married into other families or into the Blacks you still have Arcturus, Pollux, Cassiopeia and Cygnus Black. As in the man who supported Grindelwald financially, the man who got married at twelve to his classmate, the woman who actually fought for Grindelwald, and the father of Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa, respectively. Those are the people you’ve left Black with.”

Brian stopped sucking on his sweets for a second before shrugging nonchalantly and smiling genially at them. “Don’t worry! Sirius has always had the good fortune to come out on top of any situation like this –"

“Except when Bellatrix killed him," she deadpanned.

“– and he does possess good judgement –”

“If we completely ignore instances of feeding fellow students to werewolves, running around with werewolves on a full moon without fully knowing if they were safe, and of course the case in which he ran around by his goddaughter looking like an omen of death without reassuring her of the truth,” Snape explained sarcastically.

“– so I’m sure he’ll be just fine!” Brian finished with a bright smile.

Before she or Severino could question him any more – and bloody hell they needed to, where the _fuck_ was the common sense in what he’d consigned her godfather to? – the old git turned and walked through the gates, merrily whistling a tune that sounded uncomfortably like Queen’s ‘Another One Bites the Dust’.

‘ _Just fine’, my arse._

The young Potter turned and shared a commiserating glance with the Potions Professor, both of them aware that the Headmaster’s platitudes meant nothing in the face of the House of insane-bastards-that-did-whatever-the-fuck-they-wanted-whenever-they-wanted-which-also-included-regularly-spitting-in-the-face-of-the-law-and-relying-on-gold-to-vanish-their-problems-because-they-were-Blacks.

_Sirius is dooooomed._

She paused for a second before grinning evilly at Severino, very much enjoying his look of ‘oh what the fuck now?’. “So … did mine ears deceive me or were you actually worried about Sirius running around like a Grim without ‘reassuring’ me? Don’t worry Severino, I won’t tell anyone you actually have a heart.”

Severus Snape stilled before throwing her a truly venomous glare – though it had nothing on that time in the afterlife when she accidentally-on-purpose threw a lump of snake skin into one of his potions to see what would happen; the resulting explosion rivalled he infamous exit of the Weasley twins during Umbridge’s pink reign of nightmares – and grit his teeth.

“I have no clue what you are talking about, you insolent child.”

Dahlia smirked. “No need to be embarrassed, Severino, it’s not your fault I’m so – AARGH!!!”

She cut off with a blood-curdling scream as she was doused from head to toe in ice-cold water, the liquid fully seeping into every item of clothing she had on including her shoes, and she was left with teeth chattering as she stood there in a sodden mess, looking the farthest thing possible from a girl of a centuries-old distinguished family.

_This means war._

She slowly lifted her head, her currently-blue eyes boring into deep coal orbs glittering with amusement as she whispered, “You’re dead.”

There was a beat of silence then an all-out war erupted.

Dahlia grinned. _Once revenge is mine I can save the Dogfather_. She dodged a yellow flash and grimaced.

_But first someone needs to go swimming with the squid._

* * *

While a certain not-so-innocent child was attempting to drown her soon-to-be-Potions Professor in the lake with the help of an unusually-placid squid, a certain newly-freed prisoner was considering what was worse, Azkaban and the Dementors, or Black Manor and his oh-so-hated relatives.

But Walburga had died when he was in prison, so there was that. _Three cheers for me!_

Both his grandfathers – the joys of being born from incest – were united for once in their hatred of the Ministry for throwing him in prison without a trial, Aunt Cassi was constantly cackling about blackmailing the lot of them, and his grandmother Melania kept guilt-tripping him into eating as much as possible, all the while casually cursing his aunt Druella and grandmother Irma until the two hags shut up and left them alone.

And people wondered why he’d never disrespected Hufflepuffs. He might have been headstrong but he wasn’t _stupid_.

Even after just a couple of weeks he was feeling immensely better, him having been removed from Azkaban weeks ago to get ready for the trial he’d only just gotten – _thanks guys, it wasn’t as if I was an Auror for you or anything, you know, one of your own employees that you vowed to care for? Bunch of lying arseholes_ – and despite how much it pained him (truly pained him) he could admit that being in a place with open rooms, large windows and no restrictions on where he could go was doing wonders for his mind.

But Dahlia. He wanted – no, he _needed_ to see his goddaughter. She was practically the only thing he had left anymore, the only piece of James and Lily still around. Sure, Remus was still around somewhere and they’d been together for years in school, but Lia was the baby he promised to care for in case anything happened, the baby he’d failed by getting caught and ending up in prison …

Before his thoughts could carry on down their depressingly-familiar downward spiral, the door to his bedroom opened up and his grandmother came bustling in with a tray of food which she settled next him. Melania started fussing with his pillows, muttering about Ministry incompetence and all the things she’d do if she saw Barty Crouch Sr. in a dark alley. It was pretty hilarious seeing a petite 5’2” witch with honey-brown eyes and chestnut hair threatening to castrate a man slowly, but knowing as he did her prowess with a wand, Sirius wasn’t foolish enough to think she didn’t mean it. Melania Black nee Macmillan was a formidable witch if he knew one.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my ungrateful grandson, back home again. You're such a disgrace to our House –”

Irma Black nee Crabbe wasn’t attractive in any sense of the word, but she was even uglier seeing her face scrunch up with surprise then pain as a red spell shot out from Melania’s wand, knocking her off her feet and sending her flying back out the door she’d walked in and hitting the wall hard. The woman slumped to the floor unconscious and Melania waved her wand once more, closing the door and locking it if Sirius remembered the wand movements correctly. She turned back to Sirius with a bright smile, seemingly completely unaware she’d just knocked out her cousin-in-law and left the unconscious body unattended.

“Sirius dear, how are you feeling? Do you need any pain potions at all? How about a few books to pass the time?”

He cleared his throat, fighting a grin at what he’d just seen. “No, thank you Grandmo – I mean, Gran,” he amended hurriedly at the narrowed eyes, “I’m fine. Well, not fine I guess, but I’m a hell of a lot better than I was a few weeks ago.”

The woman pursed her lips at the mention of his previous ‘residence’ and started fiddling with his hair. It was quite nostalgic for him; Walburga had never really allowed her sons to visit their paternal grandparents often, probably because Melania despised Walburga and Arcturus always questioned why his son would ever want to marry such a harpy.

Just because the Blacks promoted the idea of family didn’t mean they wouldn’t take very available opportunity to physically and verbally torment each other.

Sirius honestly wished he could have grown up with Gran; she was so much better than the hag that had birthed him, and even his terrifying grandfather that had no qualms admitting he’d funded some of Grindelwald’s muggle hunts wasn’t anywhere near as awful as Walburga Black. He went back over those thoughts and shook his head ruefully. _I'm finally done for, thinking of Arcturus Black as the preferable parental figure._

“Still,” she huffed with a worried frown, “you’re not fully well, are you? You might be doing extraordinarily well with all the potions you’re taking, but mentally is another situation entirely. You were in … _that place_ for ten years. _Ten!_ Merlin, you’ll be affected by that for a long time to come, not to mention that –”

Melania cut herself off with a flush and cleared her throat, levitating the food tray over and placing it on his lap. “I’ve got you some soup and toast, and –”

“Gran.”

The woman stopped talking and looked up at him, brown eyes boring into grey that had the same shape if not colour. Her features softened and she took one of his pale hands in hers.

He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes. “Gran, I’m sorry that my time in Azkaban has made problems for the family.

“… I’m sorry that I can’t have children anymore.”

Before he could slip back into the dark thoughts that regularly plagued his mind, a thin pair of arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and pulled him close, his head resting on the woman’s shoulder.

“Sirius Orion Black, you listen to me and you listen good. Yes, you were rather foolish as a boy and made some mistakes, but no matter what’s happened you’ve always been my grandson. That still holds true now, even with your unfortunate situation. No, I obviously won’t be getting any great-grandchildren in the traditional sense from you, but again, _none_ of that is your fault. If those imbeciles supposedly running our government had done their jobs properly in the first place, you never would have had to set foot on that disgusting island.

“This isn’t what any of us wanted Sirius, but we’re Blacks, and Blacks always get what we want, no matter what.” Melania pulled back with a smirk. “Besides, don’t you want to prove Walburga’s memory wrong by managing to do things right where she failed so epically?”

Sirius choked on a laugh and grinned at his favourite grandmother – _only_ grandmother he really recognised, if he thought about it; the woman slumped on the floor outside like a drunken bum was someone he’d rather forget any blood relation to, thank you very much – feeling a lot lighter after her words.

“Thanks, Gran. And yeah, it would be nice to prove the bitch wrong.”

Melania laughed in a delighted manner and kissed his cheek. “That’s my grandson.” Sobering slightly, the woman looked him in eye once more. “So there isn’t anything I can do? Anyone to contact, perhaps?”

“Unless you know where Lia is, then no, not really," Sirius sighed despondently.

She blinked. “Lia?”

“You know, Dahlia. Dahlia Potter,” he explained.

Melania was going to ask why he wanted to see The-Girl-Who-Lived, but she had a feeling it had more to do with the girl being James Potter’s daughter rather than any stupidly-bewildering celebrity status she had. “James Potter’s daughter? Did you want to check on your friend’s daughter?”

Sirius smiled wryly. “I want to check on my goddaughter.”

The woman froze. _Goddaughter?_ Her grandson was the girl’s godfather? The young girl who was set to inherit the House of Potter upon her majority and the girl that had no parents to speak of? Melania’s mind went whirling along old customs and traditions for godparents and orphaned children, settling on the rather common practice of adoption when an underage child had no parents around.

The girl was a half-blood, yes, also from a light family – not that any of the Blacks could complain seeing as she was Lady Black, and if any of her husband’s shitty relatives or Merlin-forbid Arcturus himself wanted to complain, she’d show them just why it was that Lord Flint paled and almost screamed in fear whenever he saw her face; he should be glad she didn’t remove his ability to continue his family line, though considering the general calibre of the Flints perhaps she should have carried through on her threat and done the world a favour – but if she married a pure-blood she’d have pure-blooded children, and considering she had no Blacks in her family tree her blood wasn’t tainted by marrying cretins like the Crabbes or Rosiers. One only had to look at Irma or Druella to realise they were more than a few twigs short of a broom.

Melania turned to her beloved grandson with a glint in her eyes that made Sirius freeze on instinct. _Fucking hell, what’s she playing at now?_

“Sirius," she purred with delight, “I do believe we may have a solution to our lack of an Heir after you.”

The man blinked a few times before paling rapidly. “Noooo …. no, no, no, no, no!”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

As he watched his grandmother start plotting maniacally before his very eyes, Sirius Black took a moment to send a mental plea for forgiveness to his undoubtedly innocent and sweet goddaughter.

_I’m so sorry Bambi, please forgive me for their insanity._

* * *

Miles away in Scotland, a very not-innocent and sweet Dahlia Potter sneezed in the middle of her impromptu duel with Severus Snape and tripped forward. Fortunately for her, the infamous Potter luck granted her with good fortune at that precise moment and her spell hit the Potions Master square in the lower abdomen, flinging him off his feet and directly into the murky depths of the lake.

She stopped and panted for a few seconds before looking skywards and flinging her arms in the air.

“VICTORY IS MINE!!!”

A splash caught her attention and she watched the enraged form surface and glare daggers at her.

“POTTER!!!”

Contrary to what Severino thought, Dahlia wasn’t stupid and she decided on the most intelligent plan at that particular moment.

She ran.

 _Thank fuck I know all those secret passages_ , she thought while dodging hexes and curses of every colour imaginable.

_This is going to take a while._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I know it's been a while but I did say this would be sporadically updated. Sorry about that, but this fic is literally being written as I go along. The word 'planning' does not exist in my vocabulary when I work on this lol.
> 
> I don't know if it's just me or if any other writers find this, but I can't help but feel as if this is actually the hardest of my fics to write because of the comedy. Writing a serious story with convoluted plot ideas is surprisingly easier than this crack-filled mess. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Anyway, once more I have nothing planned for the next chapter or even when I'll get to it, so I'm afraid it's just wait and see again.
> 
> Until next time!


	5. Welcome to the House of Crazies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Dahlia looked over the sea of heavy books – and were those _blood stains_? – and looked at the old goat incredulously.

“You complete and utter fucking hypocrite.”

“Now dear –”

“Don’t ‘now dear’ me, you lying bastard,” she interrupted with a glare. “How many bloody times did we hear that the ‘esteemed’ Headmaster of Hogwarts removed all sorts of books from the library because they contained all sorts of ‘evil’ dark magic – way to go promoting ignorance and prejudice, by the way – and you didn’t actually get rid of them, did you?”

She gestured at the piles of knowledge at her feet. “You kept them for yourself, you lying, sanctimonious _hypocrite_.”

“… In my defence, I didn’t want a younger Voldemort or his supporters to have access to such dubious things that would undoubtedly make them stronger and more of a pain to deal with.”

Dahlia crossed her arms and raised a brow. “And you kept them for yourself because …?”

“… Because I thought it would be a good idea not to throw away centuries worth of magical information just because one student didn’t just toe the line of crazy, he ran and jumped over it with maniacal glee?”

She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face harshly, muttering darkly under her breath as she did. “You’re such a fucking Ravenclaw.”

“How rude! I’ll have you know that our lovely hat considered me for no other House than the brave and noble lions.” He steepled his fingers and peered at her over the tops of his glasses, blue eyes glinting in amusement. “You know, unlike you.”

The girl rolled her eyes and flopped back gracelessly into a conjured armchair. “ _Yes_ , I should have been in Slytherin.” She turned her head and studied the barmy old codger. “Why do you find that so amusing, anyway?”

He popped a toffee in his mouth and hummed. “It’s not so much that you specifically should have been a Slytherin that’s amusing – though I shan’t deny the idea of what your father would have said in reaction to such an unconventional Sorting is certainly entertaining to picture – it's that a girl of your unique position almost entered the House of snakes.

“Not only do you hail from a family which has a strong association with Gryffindor – and by strong association, I mean not a single one of your ancestors for the past few hundred years have gone anywhere else; peculiar, that is – but you’re also used as a national icon for the light faction. Having someone like that end up in the House with the worst reputation, deserving or not – though you have to agree that the former Slytherins that went crazy bad went so bad they really and truly earned Slytherin a worse reputation than the other less favourable individuals in other Houses – would have been something of a deadly heart attack for our collective community.”

The man tilted his head to the side. “Perhaps you _should_ go into Slytherin. The shock might be enough to jolt the corrupted shade of Voldemort from poor Quirinus,” Dumbledore mused with a contemplative look on his lined face.

“When those books spoke of a shock to the body, I don’t think this is what they were talking about,” she deadpanned.

As she watched the old man cheerfully wave her off and lapse into happy silence, more than likely mentally going ahead with some sort of convoluted plan that had about as much chance of working as Severino had of confessing some long and deeply-buried romantic love for James Potter – Dahlia turned that thought over in her mind and physically shuddered; that was _nauseating. God, I need some brain bleach_ – despite the fact the man should really know better by now. I mean, it wasn’t as if his teenage plans with Grindelwald had failed or anything, and of _course_ he’d never fucked up with the bullying issue in school, or her childhood, or in adequately preparing anything and everyone for the war …

He should have learnt better by now, regardless of that bullshit saying about teaching old dogs new tricks. She'd _beat_ it into him if she had to.

“Seriously, do you think these – very illegal – books are going to help us?” Dahlia asked, vaguely waving at the haphazard arrangement of old and precious tomes that were all very much against current Ministry regulations concerning what was legal or not to own. _Still can’t believe the wily old bastard had all these stashed away. Noble lion? What the fuck is he smoking?_

The old man beamed at her. “Dahlia dear, if anything is going to be able to help us, it’s these lovely sources of esoteric knowledge! As you are in fact the only known case of a human Horcrux in modern ages, we must turn to books such as these to help us in removing the soul shard from your head without incurring tragic injuries or turning to more dire and base methods.”

“Base methods,” she parroted with a flat look. “You mean that plan you and Severino have been cooking up where you take inspiration from muggle medical dramas and stop my heart before reviving me in the hopes that it kicks Voldy out my body.”

There was a beat of silence before a sheepish expression crawled across the man’s face. “Well, I don’t see how we as wizards wouldn’t be able to recreate it more easily with our magic.”

“You’re trying to kill me, Brian!” Dahlia burst out incredulously, fingers tightly clasped around an older wand – _way to go, Room of Requirement_ – and one eye fixed on the mad idiot in front of her lest he try something like stopping her heart then and there. She wouldn’t put it past him.

“I’m not trying to _kill_ you, Dahlia. The official term is inducing a cardiac arrest, I only want to stop your heart for as long as it takes the Horcrux to detach from your soul. Besides, I plan to revive you. It's not as if you’re going to stay dead, so I don’t really see what the issue is. I’m sure it’ll be very similar to simply taking a nap,” he placated.

She scoffed. “Oh, really? And what about _my_ soul? What if your plan to wait for the Horcrux to detach takes too long and my own bloody soul detaches? You know, I _die_?!”

Dumbledore averted his eyes, a vaguely guilty look on his face. “We are … _acquainted_ with someone who deals with the dearly departed on a regular basis.”

Dahlia frowned in confusion for a second before her eyes widened in shock. _No. Fucking. Way_.

“No."

“Dahlia –”

“No, we are _not_ making any plans that rely on the non-existent compliance of the insane piece of shit that’s responsible for sending us back to square one in this god-awful life. And compliance aside, how do we even know if he or she or it and whatever the fuck they are even has the ability to do what you’re talking about?"

“… Well, we _are_ alive again.”

She facepalmed hard, not even paying attention to the pout on Brian’s face – she _really_ wasn’t paying attention to that, least of all because the sight of a man over a century old mirroring an expression most often seen on young toddlers was just wrong on _so_ many levels; she could _feel_ the migraine seeping into every inch of her brain – and tried not to give into the urge to hex her soon-to-be headmaster bald, though she’d admit the image gave her enough inner cheer that she’d probably be able to cast a fully corporeal Patronus, body of a ten-year-old or not.

The girl opened her mouth to comment – once more, another time in the endless _fucking_ cycle of questioning this man’s intelligence, then shaking her head and accepting he was simultaneously a respected figure in their society as well as someone who was more or less an exact replica of a patient that had escaped a mental hospital; she wondered what that said about the state of Britain’s magical world – on what went on his damaged mind before the office door opened and in strode a deeply-unimpressed Severus Snape. Though that could just be his normal ‘why must I continue to be surrounded by these inferior and mentally-challenged cretins that I’m not allowed to dispose of to maintain my own sanity?’ face. Or his everyday face, as Dahlia called it. _I think I’d have a heart attack if he walked in with a cheerful smile. It'd_ have _to be impersonation, there’s no way he’d so something like that of his own accord. Maybe if he was high or something …?_

Shaking off the different mental scenarios where the infamous dungeon bat could smile – all of which were varying levels of disturbing and sinking further and further into ‘oh Jesus Christ, I must Obliviate myself for the sake of my continued sanity’ – she turned to said bat with a yawn. (Sorting through years upon years of blood-soaked illegality was _exhausting_.)

“Severino. ‘Sup.”

“Your vernacular is atrocious.”

She stretched her arms, ignoring the cracks of her spine which made Severino grimace – _another point to me_ – and looked up at him with a lazy smirk. “Ironic, isn’t it? Me, a girl with an extraordinarily foul mouth is the one who’s set to inherit two different families when I reach seventeen. Life's funny sometimes.”

Coal eyes flashed with irritation, but Brian decided to jump in like the perfect Gryffindor he supposedly was – _still calling bullshit on that_ – and distract them before yet another impromptu duel could break out. Which, yeah, might be a good idea in this room considering some of the books which were strewn all over the bloody place, the nasty magic something which would probably absorb their spells and explode – which really and truly wasn’t outside the realm of possibility with them; _and even if they didn’t, that idea certainly still bears further thought later_ – or would get damaged in an explosion, which _really_ wasn’t good, because _fucking hell I already martyred myself once you arseholes, why the hell should I do it again just because none of us expected to wake up in a world with a severely lacking gaming industry?_

(Only a few years left until the PlayStation graced the world again. Not that she was counting down or anything. Nope. Wasn't happening.)

“Severus! What brings you here on this fine day? I was under the impression you were going to enjoy today’s sunshine by ensconcing yourself in your dark and dreary dungeon to brew all manner of potions which aren’t entirely needed right now. That is, instead of spending time with a traditional Gryffindor such as myself and young Dahlia here.”

Dahlia shot a bewildered look at the old goat after that weird closing statement. _The fuck is he on about now?_

Snape narrowed his eyes, black meeting blue. “Albus. Exactly how many times are you going to bring up the fact that the brat wasn’t going to be in Gryffindor. I get it already, _move on_.”

“Wait, _that’s_ what this is about?” the girl questioned while scrunching her face up. “Come on Severino, surely you already know that I nearly went to –”

She cut off when she realised her voice wasn’t working, and she shot a venomous glare at the seemingly-innocent pensioner behind his desk petting a docile phoenix who appeared to be quietly amused at the moment. _Damn it Fawkes, you’re not supposed to be on his side! Eccentric owner-slash-master or whatever the fuck he is to you, what happened to all those times you helped me?!_ (And yeah, maybe Fawkes hadn’t actually encountered her in her many disaster-riddled adventures in this particular lifetime, but she thought these past few weeks in the castle where she’d pet and stroked the spontaneously-combusting bird would have meant something to him. Though clearly, they didn’t. _Lousy turkey._ )

“Now dear, don’t be so angry.” Dahlia wasn’t _angry_ with Brian, she was just a little pissed off and contemplating just how much she’d be able to cause pandemonium and general chaos in the castle for him to deal with. Perhaps she should gift the Weasley twins with some more explosive spells? “Severus here has no idea as to which House you were originally going to be placed in, and I have a small wager going on where I see how long it takes for him to figure out the truth which has practically been slapping him the face for the past several years, even as he’s ignored it.”

Severino flushed. “I’m still here, you know,” he growled.

Dahlia rolled her eyes, and feeling the magic fade from her throat turned to the younger of the men with a frown “Why _are_ you here? I mean, you were pretty content to be a reclusive bastard earlier and avoid us, so what the hell’s so important you’d willingly do the very thing you despise? You know, _socialise._ ”

“You know, I regularly dream about foregoing magic entirely and smothering you in your sleep with your own pillow. I wake up after those nights feeling rather content.”

Her lips quirked. “Huh, how about that? Dreaming of _your_ death all the time makes me feel great, too.”

The atmosphere suddenly cooled, the younger two of the trio of wackos – and she hated to admit it, but maybe Death had a point gifting them with that particular moniker, though his version more than likely included a capitalised and official title, thanks to the fact of him being a _wanker_ – staring each other down, black coal versus Killing Curse green, two sets of fingers inching towards their respective wands.

“Is that a letter, Severus?”

 _So_ not subtle, Brian.

Severino seemed to agree with her judging by the long-suffering look on his face – Dahlia still thought it was bizarre beyond belief, and not a little creepy, that the guy who’d spent years despising and bullying her could now agree with her on the strangest of topics; she had to be in the twilight zone, there was no other explanation – but still he sighed and turned to the headmaster.

“Yes, it’s a letter. It appears as though your ‘subtle’ words of advice at Black’s trial – which were anything but, if I’m being perfectly honest – were heard after all by a group consisting of some of the most dangerous and insanity-riddles individuals of our society.”

At the two blank looks he received, Snape sighed in a long-suffering manner. “The House of Black.”

Dahlia blinked with wide eyes. ”Ohhh … Your description of them actually makes sense. For once. It’s pretty weird to hear you be accurate without bias, it feels wrong somehow."

The black-haired man appeared to grit his teeth and try to force his temper back down – _I should ask Dobby for some popcorn, this is hilarious_ – before closing his eyes, counting to ten under his breath (from what she could tell), and blowing out a stream of breath slowly and carefully. _Maybe he’s going to anger management or something, that looks way too rehearsed to be a new thing_. She briefly pondered if it was a wise idea to fuck around with someone that had anger problems before shrugging. She'd been messing with him for years by now, if he’d wanted to try and kill her it would have happened by now.

“Anyway,” Severino bit out, “one of the elder Blacks I presume – it certainly wasn’t the one on trial considering he was off his head on potions – figured out your hint that you are in contact with the annoying little shit on the chair over there –”

“Hey!”

“– therefore, they wrote you a letter inviting yourself and the brat to lunch at Black Manor in one week’s time. On the thirty-first, to be exact.”

Dahlia cocked her head to the side. “Do you think they know it’s my birthday?”

Brian hummed. “It’s quite possible, especially with Sirius staying there. Though I can’t help my thoughts that there’s another reason for inviting you to the ancestral Black home than simply reuniting you and your godfather.”

The three time travellers – or unfortunate victims of the bastardly bored supernatural entity that really needed to find some other way to spend its endless life; maybe a hobby? Why not spend all that time reading or something? _Surely_ they hadn’t gotten through all the literature in existence? I mean, some of those Japanese comics went on for fucking forever – sat in silence and pondered the invitation. Which they would definitely be accepting. _Hello? Godfather? The man that was supposed to raise me?_ No bloody _way_ was Dahlia missing this opportunity.

The girl watched as Brian suddenly blinked rapidly before turning to Severino with a bewildered and vaguely accusatory look in his blue eyes.

“You read my mail.”

There was a beat of silence as the younger man twitched. “I did nothing wrong."

“That’s an invasion of privacy, Severus.”

“That’s rich, coming from you! A gossiping and interfering –”

“I have never breached –”

“You lying pensioner –”

Dahlia leaned back in her chair with a smirk. This was fun to witness when she wasn’t part of the equation. She stretched her arms before settling back into the cushions, casually enjoying her spontaneously-appearing bowl of popcorn – Dobby was _such_ a good friend – as she watched a repeat of the scene that had played out before her very eyes for years.

The girl looked back at the letter on the table and grinned.

_See you soon, Siri._

* * *

Dahlia might be a grown woman mentally – a woman that _might not_ have the best moral compass or perhaps the _greatest_ ability to be sane and normal (something she’d never admit to anyone else upon threat of death) – but she was still the same girl that had experienced way too much crap and lost a lot of people in her life. So coming face-to-face with one Sirius Orion Black, rebellious Gryffindor and all-around (endearing) pain in the arse, her one and only godfather that had been overbearing and almost hysterical over his teenage goddaughter being friends with so many people of the male variety, the man that had run headfirst into the Ministry to save her despite being a wanted man, was more than a little heart-wrenching for her. She did the only appropriate thing she could, regardless of their stuck-up spectators.

She launched herself at him and hugged him to death.

A small whimper emanated from the man she was wrapped around. “Owww …”

Dahlia jumped back as if burnt with wide, panicked eyes razing over the thin man before her. “Oh God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you bad? I shouldn’t have done that! Shi –”

Before she could finish delving into her crass cursing – as Severino delighted in reminding her of; _hypocritical bastard number two_ – the closest thing she’d ever had to a father bent down and cupped her cheeks, his silver eyes sparkling in a way she’d only ever seen in pictures of his teens, or with her, Remus and those of the Order he actually liked, few as they were. (Siri was just as picky with his people as he was with his food, weirdo that he was.)

“Bloody hell, you’re beautiful, Bambi.”

She could _feel_ the red flush crawl across her face. _Bambi_. She knew it was the nickname James chose upon finding out he was having a daughter, completely ignoring her mother’s exasperated explanation that the character Bambi was in fact _male_. As per usual for James Potter’s pig-headed tenacity – which Lily really should have realised after spending the better part of a decade in close proximity with the moron – he ignored his wife and bestowed what he thought of as a “bloody cute” name on his daughter.

Sirius had used it in her past life a lot, something that showed just how much he cared about her as a person rather than just James Potter’s daughter. It was embarrassing, and cheesy, and so ridiculously sweet that she loved it immensely. It was a bit weird, sure – not that she would have expected much from the man who thought tormenting the best friend of the girl he loved was a good idea; _Dad, no wonder you never went to Ravenclaw. Grade-A idiot, right there_ – but she wouldn’t deny she loved it. Sirius wasn’t a perfect person but she loved him all the same. For her at least, he was amazing.

Apparently, not for his shitty relatives.

“How disgusting, lowering yourself for a filthy half –”

“A disappointment and a wench, a perfect –”

Two snotty voices spoke up at once then stopped in tandem, and Dahlia watched as the two stuck-up women – introduced as her godfather’s maternal grandmother and aunt, respectively; it was kind of disturbing how most of Siri’s family problems came from that side of the tree, though considering Walburga’s whacked portrait there wasn’t exactly a question as to why – were hit by some strange purple spells – _What the fuck was purple? That didn’t look like normal duelling stuff –_ and went flying across the massive entrance hall and out the doorway, hitting the floor hard judging by the sound and apparently not moving.

_What. The. Fuck._

Dahlia slowly turned her head, absentmindedly noting her godfather doing the same, to the see the small and cheerful woman that had welcomed her to Black Manor – because Brian was a bastard and had bailed; _can’t believe Severino called it, now I owe him a hundred galleons_ – casually twirling her wand through her thin fingers, not even looking in the direction of the bodies – _Are they bodies? Are they_ alive _?_ – and instead beaming at her and Sirius.

“Don’t mind them, Miss Potter. They just have a very different idea as to what constitutes familial affection than I do. I think it’s lovely to see you and my grandson so close to one another, don’t you, _Arcturus_?”

Arcturus Black was a very different man to his wife physically, beyond the obvious of male and female. Tall and muscled to small and thin, black hair to brown, piercing grey eyes to honey, they were a balanced couple. In terms of appearance anyway, because Melania’s bland smile and icy eyes as she looked at her husband painted a picture of a woman used to getting her way no matter what she had to do to get it, and judging from the wary and resigned look on the older Lord Black’s face the woman was going to get her way this time with little fuss from the powerful man next to her.

Dahlia loved her.

“That was awesome,” she breathed, gazing at the door which was a good thirty feet away, meaning a great deal of power had gone into tossing the bitches out the room. She turned back to Lady Black with excitement. “You’re so powerful!”

Melania Black blinked before smirking smugly, the epitome of a cat that just got the canary. Arcturus got a pained look in his eyes and slowly closed them, looking as if he was muttering under his breath. Dahlia thought she heard something like “not another one”, but she was too busy looking at the reactions of the other family members to pay much attention to the man’s apparent imminent mental breakdown. The dark-haired stern woman with sharp slate eyes was Cassiopeia, and up until Dahlia spoke, she’d been eyeing her with barely-hidden distaste. _How horrible, we have a_ half-blood _in the manor! Not only that, she’s from a_ light _family! This is_ such _a tragedy, it must be remedied at once!_

Maybe she was sarcastic, but people like this really fucked her off.

Anyway, it seemed as if Dahlia’s admiration of Melania’s spellwork – and yeah she was admiring her, that was _brilliant_ – had lessened the woman’s scorn if the approving curiosity in Cassiopeia’s gaze was anything to go by. Seemingly, she’d also piqued the interest of Siri’s other Black grandfather Pollux – _and I thought my family tree was screwy_ – as the man seemed rather amused by her reaction rather than pissed off as Dahlia might have guessed. I mean, his _wife_ had just been thrown from the room. Not to mention his daughter-in-law, but as opposed to being furious he didn’t seem to give two shits as to whether or not he’d become a widower in the past minute. He looked a lot like Sirius except heavier and with grey dusting his temples, though his face looked a strange combination of serious but with a few laugh lines. Then again, it seemed as if every single person here was strange in one way or another, her godfather included.

All in all, her honest and open appreciation of such magical prowess appeared to at least earn her the civility of all the Blacks here – she wasn’t including the sulking Cygnus Black in the corner, he was just a misogynistic piece of shite – and they looked pleased. Mostly. Arcturus was difficult to get a read on, but everyone was more or less good.

Sirius was unfortunately in denial.

“Ha ha, well that’s of course some strong and … _unique_ magic, but I’m sure when you grow up you’ll get more interested the regular and everyday stuff, of course you will! After all, you’re much too sweet and innocent to become like one of these women, you’re just a precious flower! Don't worry Bambi, I’ll make sure you learn some nice, _safe_ spells.”

The man trailed off, muttering to himself in a way that hilariously reminded her of Kreacher – _Unconscious childish imitation, perhaps?_ – about how she was a small and innocent child that needed to be saved and cherished and protected from the insanity of the House of Black rather than sucked in. And it was sweet in its own way, but Dahlia was really concerned about the man’s insistence that everything was good with her. Either he was choosing not to say anything and draw attention to her personality, or he just wouldn’t accept it was real. One argument or the other, the result was hysterical. _Poor, simple Dogfather. You have no clue how mad this life is, do you?_

Melania laughed airily with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Oh, my dear, you’re going to be such a delight, aren’t you? Why don’t you follow me and I’ll show you around?”

As Dahlia was led through the oversized manor – _Do people really need over a dozen rooms that are practically the same?_ – by a cheerfully manipulative old woman and a vaguely terrified godfather who was clinging to her as if to protect her from something, she couldn’t help but think she was about to find out what the House of Black really wanted from her. She might have been a bit erratic in her day-to-day life – which was as far as her admission concerning her behaviour would ever go, thank you very much – but she was far from stupid. This batshit insane family wanted something from her, end of story.

Dahlia had a feeling Death was going to be laughing at her by the end of this day.

* * *

“Come again?”

Oh, this girl was _such_ a delight! Her darling Sirius might be under the impression she was a sweet and innocent child that needed protecting, but Melania knew better. Granted, Dahlia’s persona of the harmless and charming child was extraordinarily convincing for someone of her age, but as someone that had grown up using the same act to get what she wanted, Melania was more than equipped to see through it.

It was vastly entertaining to see the child hear something she obviously disagreed with and cock her head to the side thoughtfully, casually musing to herself some insightful and thought-provoking titbits that gave her husband’s shitty family enough pause to actually start using the brains they all professed to having but never actually employed.

No matter what House she went to, Dahlia Potter was a Slytherin to the core.

The Lady Black hadn’t had so much fun in years, especially seeing the girl poke fun at Cygnus with a bright and kind smile on her face that belied the words designed to stab the annoying shit in the heart and twist the knife for good measure. Honestly, even years later she couldn’t fathom what Arcturus’ father had been thinking, marrying off Pollux’s son at the age of twelve for the sake of more Blacks. And to _Druella Rosier_. She internally shuddered at the thought of that bitch. Cygnus should be glad all of his children were even his, what with his wife’s reputation. It was no wonder their daughters were a collective disaster considering both parents.

Her favourite had to be the familial questioning which had backfired on Cygnus spectacularly.

* * *

“ _So how was growing up with muggles? I can’t imagine there’s much there to be proud of, being related to such vermin.”_

_Dahlia turned to the man with a brief look of consideration before smiling brightly. “I prefer to think of it as learning a different culture, Mister Black. After all, that really is the primary problem concerning relations between muggle-raised and magic-raised wizards, isn’t it? It's a shame Hogwarts doesn’t offer any classes on those topics, it would probably help massively in things like House unity and prejudice,” she trailed off thoughtfully. The girl shook her head and smiled again. “I got off track, sorry. But concerning family, Mister Black, you must be so proud.”_

_Cygnus raised a brow in derision. “Proud? Of course I’m proud to be a Black.”_

_She laughed lightly and waved her hand. “Not of your House, Mister Black. I meant your daughter, Andromeda.” Ignoring the man’s stiffening, Dahlia continued as if she didn’t notice the imminent danger. “After all, I read that the ability of being a Metamorphmagus had essentially died out in modern history, and yet your daughter had a child with that very ability herself."_

_The girl cocked her head and beamed at the furious man. “You must be so proud that your own daughter single-handedly revived a magical gift long thought extinct. It's incredible when you think about it.”_

* * *

Reminding the sexist and vile git of a man that the child he disinherited had actually borne a child of great magical prowess themselves was essentially a slap in the face, and a hilarious one to boot. There he was, trying to demean her by reminding her of the disgusting muggles she shared blood with in an attempt to mortify her – admittedly it was a distressing thing to experience, being related to such uneducated creatures, but the girl very much took after her pure-blood parent so there wasn’t much issue, and it certainly wasn’t the poor child’s fault she shared blood with the animals – and instead the young Heiress Potter casually and carelessly reminded him of the cruel irony of his actions.

Yes, she would make a fine Lady Black one day.

Which led to this brief conversation between she, her husband, Sirius and the child herself, informing her of the decision to see that she headed the House of Black in the future. Of course, her reaction was as hilarious as Melania had predicted. The perfectly-formed smile belied the flat resignation in those captivating verdant eyes, the expression some sort of ‘why on Earth has something like this happened again?’ or ‘what the fuck did I do to deserve this?’ Melania recognised it intimately from her early marriage with Arcturus. Before she gave up trying to be the perfect wife and simply threatened him whenever he did something stupid, that is. (Funnily enough, their hasty teenage marriage got better after that. Honestly, why her husband gave Sirius so much hassle over his temper when he used to be the same, Melania never knew. A horrendous temper was par for the course for the House of Black, as far as she was concerned.)

“You heard what I said.” She ignored Sirius’ pained whimper with well-practiced ease and met green eyes head on. “We’d like you to adopt you into the House of Black so that you’d be Lady Black in the future.” Well, _she_ did, but Arcturus would just have to suck it up and get with the programme. Their family hadn’t exactly been doing well in recent years – Pollux's fucked up daughter hadn’t done any of them any favours, and her grandsons were infinitely lucky they hadn’t ended up as messed up as Bellatrix; it was kind of sad both Pollux’s daughter and granddaughter were touched in the head, but she supposed he too wasn’t entirely all there – and Melania wasn’t going to sit back and let everything go to shit if she could help it.

No matter her birth name she was a Black, and the House of Black was her priority.

(And perhaps she couldn’t help but grin at the idea of the untold mayhem that would no doubt come from having the imp before her at the helm of the stuffy family. Really, the lot of them needed shaking up and learning to use their brains again. Maybe then they’d actually survive past the next generation. The way things were going they’d implode before the turn of the century. And by implode she meant they’d all be sharing a family wing in Azkaban or sharing the warded family plot round the back of the manor after offing one another. Or both. Both was definitely possible with the nutters she shared a name with.)

Dahlia frowned minutely. “I understand the idea, but how exactly would I be adopted? I don’t have any Black ancestors to draw the blood forward or anything.”

 _Smart girl. Such a delightful mind in one so young! If only Orion had used his brain and not eloped with his insane cousin just to spite us. Stupid boy. He never listened. What part of ‘we’re discussing a marriage contract, but it’s not definite’ was so difficult to understand? I wasn’t going to marry him to that harpy anyway, nobody wants a daughter-in-law that spreads her legs for whoever asks. I wanted my grandchildren to be_ mine _, not some random arsehole’s._

Melania internally shook off her uncharitable – though completely legitimate – thoughts of the one and only Lady Malfoy – _Lucius was definitely blood-adopted, no way in hell was that bitch faithful_ – and refocused on the small girl happily sat with Sirius on the sofa next to the window. She was decidedly intelligent, especially as she seemed to aware of the differing types of magical adoptions and the methods they employed, despite how obscure that particular knowledge was. She was right that a certain adoption could be used to draw the blood of an ancestor to the forefront and make it dominant, but Melania was thinking of something a little more straightforward.

“I wasn’t thinking of that type of adoption, I was talking about Sirius here blood-adopting you as his own child and becoming a Black in that manner.”

The Lady Black hadn’t thought much about Dahlia’s home life, but if the flash of heart-wrenching hope in the luminescent green was anything to go by, it was the sort of situation where Melania would once more be tempted into copying the more bloodthirsty of the Blacks and indulging in some good old-fashioned vengeance. Though first it would probably be best to get the girl _into_ her family. After all, Dahlia wasn’t the only one desperate for her and Sirius to become a true family if the raw want on her grandson’s face was any indication

“Well, perhaps the two of you should discuss the particulars and see if this is a course of action you’d prefer,” not that she was going to give the stubborn children any choice in the matter, of _course_ she was going to make sure Sirius and the young girl were happy, no matter how much they resisted, “and come and find Arcturus and I in the gardens when you’re finished.”

With that, Melania gracefully rose from her seat and beckoned her husband of nearly eighty years to follow her. As the pair walked through the winding hallways of the manor, she vaguely listened to Arcturus’ grumbling and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Merlin, this man needs to lighten up._

“Arcturus, will you stop whinging about this! You do realise the only other options for an Heir after Sirius would either be Nymphadora Tonks, a girl that’s technically not even a Black thanks to being disinherited, or Draco Malfoy? You know, the spoiled little brat of Lucius Malfoy? The grandson of _Abraxas_ and _that woman_?”

The man huffed. “Melania dear, her name is –”

“Don’t mention that bitch to me, Arcturus Sirius Black! It’s thanks to that little hussy that our son thought it was a good idea to marry _Walburga_. Clearly, it wasn’t just her legs she couldn’t keep shut,” she finished bitterly.

“ _Yes_ , she helped to ruin our son’s life, but that wasn’t what I was talking about. Exactly how do you think people are going to react to us having _The-Girl-Who-Lived_ as a member of our family? We’re a dark House, nothing like the stellar reputation of the Potters.”

“Perhaps we wouldn’t have such a shit reputation if you hadn’t given money to _Gellert Grindelwald_ to kill off muggles indiscriminately.” She really did roll her eyes this time. “Honestly, just because the animals don’t have magic doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. Hello, doesn’t the term ‘World War’ mean anything to you? Or how about the _witch trials_?”

Arcturus pouted – no matter how much he’d deny it – and grumbled, “I thought you were exaggerating, mad woman.”

She paused and slowly turned to the taller man with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?” Melania whispered in a deadly tone.

Her husband froze – _as he bloody well should_ – and flicked wary silver eyes at her. “That came out wrong.”

“Oh, did it now?”

As the aged couple devolved into a deadly argument – with rather imaginative and painful threats from the Lady Black designed to make her husband cringe in imagined pain – that had become something of a commonplace piece in their everyday repertoire, a rather different conversation was happening between a former prisoner and a reluctant child celebrity.

Death just leaned back against the wall, enjoying the perks of invisibility, and eagerly watched as the petite old woman verbally ripped into the powerful man so much he was slowly backing away as fast as possible without alerting her.

The entity flicked his currently-green eyes – just like his favourite victim – down the hall where little Dahlia was with that oversized mutt who’d once ended up in the realm of the dead thanks to piss-poor situational awareness. And it was piss-poor, because have you _seen_ Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black? That crazy bitch wouldn’t know subtlety if it took the form of a young Tom Riddle, sent her a sultry look and asked her to not draw attention to herself. She'd just scream in glee or something.

Never had Death been gladder that a certain individual hadn’t procreated. Just the image of the potential offspring was … Words wouldn’t do the feeling any justice, the full-body shudder would have to suffice.

_Good luck, Dahlia._

(Not that Death was being nice per se, they just weren’t in the habit of kicking people when they were down. Where was the fun in that? If you kicked them when they were up, they fell so much harder and provided a fuck-ton more entertainment.

And Dahlia Potter was _hilarious_ entertainment.)

* * *

“You … do you want to adopt me? _Me_?”

She was admittedly bewildered – and not a little hopeful – at this turn of events. On the one hand she now knew what the crazy bastards wanted from her – _Ha, I_ so _called it! Suck on that, Severino! Said I was a paranoid little cretin, did you? Well, guess who’s earnt back some of those galleons? Not so smug now,_ are _you? Annoying fucker_ – but on the other this was kind of playing havoc with her emotions.

Dahlia might try and pretend she didn’t care about the vast majority of things in this new life – which wasn’t actually that far off the mark considering how many things around her fitted into the ‘and why should I give a flying fuck?’ category thanks to them losing most if not all of their ‘wow’ factor; you can’t experience things for the first time again, which was yet one more reason why Death deserved a rather grisly end itself for no other reason than Dahlia’s catharsis – but there were certain things she did care about. Or to put it another way, there were certain _people_ she cared about.

Sirius was one of the most important.

The man hadn’t been the most mature or handled things well – _Oh yes, let me just hand over a fellow student as a midnight snack for the out of control werewolf under the violent tree over there. Oh, but don’t worry, the werewolf’s a cool guy, he won’t eat you or anything_ – but he cared about her. He loved her and looked out for her as much as possible in his half-mental state while on the run, which made everything he did do pretty impressive considering how whacked he was at the time.

Anyway, the man next to her was one of the most important people in her life, and she loved him fiercely despite his flaws. (She couldn’t exactly sit there and accept the strange life forms that were Severino and Brian without doing the same for her Dogfather.) To be honest, she’d always imagined this man to be what having a dad would be like. She _did_ think of him as a parent, and while not the best parental authority figure around – _see, I can be diplomatic_ – it's how she saw him. James and Lily would always be her parents, but she’d always wanted parents that were alive and cared for her.

This man was someone she used to dream about adopting her, and now she was being offered it out of the blue. It was fucking _weird_. Not to mention Siri didn’t know jack shit about her right now, so why on earth was he even offering? Or was this Melania Black trying to get her own way? Which was totally something she could see happening, the older witch was freaking _awesome_ and obviously someone who got her way no matter what, and not in a mad way like Bellatrix. _(Thank God.)_

Sirius blinked incredulously. “Of course I do!” He cleared his throat with a sheepish expression on his face. “I mean, yeah I want us to be family, but of course there’s no way I’d force you into heading this shi – I mean, _crazy_ family, and it’s not as if I’d make you forget about James or Lily or anything, they’re still your parents and I’m just your godfather. Granted, I’d _technically_ be your dad by blood if we did this – not that I’m forcing you or anything! It's your life, after all – but I wouldn’t make you call me ‘Dad’ or anything – though it might sound nice – it's entirely up to you. This is fu – _bloody_ mad, after all, and –”

“Dad.”

The man stopped his nervous ranting at the sound of her quiet voice and turned to her with wide eyes. Dahlia could feel the anxious flush creep across her face and cleared her throat, peering up at Sirius though her lashes, twirling one of her plaits as she did so. “If you adopted me, would you mind it if I called you that? I mean, James Potter’s gone and he’ll always be my father, but I'd like a dad.

“I’d like it if … if you were my dad. If you want –”

She cut off at the feel of thin arms wrapping around her body and squeezing hard. Ordinarily she would have been annoyed at someone invading her personal space and hugging her as if they were going for suffocation, but at the moment she was quite content to soak up the affection. It wasn’t as if she’d ever had the chance to actually have a loving childhood or anything – _way to go, Brian_ – so this was sadly a novel experience for her, and something she would eagerly welcome.

“Of course I want to,” came the gruff voice above her, sounding as if he had a lump in his throat, “I know that James will always be your dad, but I want to be selfish and be there for you myself. I know I fu – erm, _messed_ up before by rushing into things, but I was genuinely planning to take you and raise you already at that point. I promised James and Lily I'd take care of you if anything happened to them, and even though I’m pretty sure they didn’t expect it to take a decade to start – not that anyone really expected the Ministry to take the … mickey and ruin things for ten whole years – I do plan to keep my promise.”

Sirius sat back and beamed at her, the bright expression not fully masking the uncertainty in his eyes. “So, what do you say, kiddo? Do you want it to be you and me? You know those crazy people in this manor come as part of the equation, right?”

Dahlia snorted before breaking out in giggles, leaning forward to bury her face in Sirius’ chest with her arms around his torso. Having to live life again might be a pain in the arse, but if she got the chance to have things like a parent this time around, it might not be all bad.

“Yeah, I do. Dad.”

She was nice enough to ignore the feeling of tears on the top of her head while her new dad got himself under control, and a few minutes later she could hear his breathing even out as he cleared his throat.

“You do realise it’s going to be mental, having to be the Head of two families? I mean, the Potters and Blacks are so different from one another as it is.”

Dahlia froze and slowly pulled back, a sheepish expression taking over her face as she fiddled with one of her plaits. “Yeah, about that …” The girl bit her lip and glanced up at the panicked silver orbs, trying not to piss herself laughing at the terror gracing the man’s face. It reminded her of the time his older self found her sleeping next to Ron and almost had an aneurism at her lying next to a male. Even if said male was her best friend and almost-brother. She wrinkled her nose. Her and Ron was just wrong on _so_ many levels.

“Anyway, I actually had an inheritance test done and it turns out that I’m apparently in line to inherit the Lestrange family as well seeing as I have a Lestrange ancestor, and everyone else is either dead or in prison.” She ignored the choking sound and carried on in a bright tone, regardless of Sirius’ imminent panic attack. “Oh, and I’m a Parselmouth because there’s a Gaunt on the family tree. Was that everything I wanted to say?” she mused to herself. _Exactly how much crap can I heap on him without him collapsing? I mean, it’d be funny, but he_ did _just escape a decade of hell._

She cocked her head to the side with wide eyes, making sure to look like the perfectly innocent child she obviously was – not that this man seemed to think otherwise anyway; _it must be amazing to be so far in denial, maybe Walburga screwed him up more than I thought_ – and smiled gently. “I know that Bellatrix was your cousin – my condolences for being related to such a woman, by the way – but would you like to go through her vault” – _now that I've already gone through it and got what I want_ – “and see if she had anything you’d like? I’m not sure what else to do with it.”

In the ensuing silence, Sirius Black stared at her with a blank face, eyes shining with a look she couldn’t quite put a word to. If that look had a sound, it would sound like a long and pain-filled wail, the sound bemoaning one’s lot in life and questioning how they managed to end up the recipient of such horror. Or something like that, she was sure.

Dahlia loved Sirius, but this was fucking _hilarious_.

“Oh, Merlin. I think I know why Gran likes you now.”

She tilted her head once more, blinking slowly to emphasise the clueless look which was soon to become her best friend for life. “What do you mean?”

In response, he groaned and dropped his head into his hands, mumbling into his palms about the horrors of life, and how she needed to be protected from the trouble she attracted, and Dahlia thought she heard something about home-schooling her to save her from the hordes of horny and evil teenage boys who were going to take advantage of her and make Sirius murder them to save her innocence.

His protective side was so sweet. Ridiculous, but sweet.

“Dad, are we going to live here with your family?”

Sirius’ head snapped up quicker than she could blink – _Fucking hell, did he snap his neck? I swear, the human body is not supposed to bend like that; then again, considering Walburga’s ‘lovely’ personality I have my doubts as to whether or not Siri’s human to begin with; no woman that ugly and harpy-like can actually be human. Can they?_ – with an expression of pure horror and dread gracing his handsome face, a face that looked to be a second away from a meltdown. Should she feel bad about messing with him? Probably. Did she?

_No way in hell._

“NO FUCKING WAY ARE WE LIVING HERE WITH THOSE CRAZY BASTARDS!!!”

The man was panting after his outburst before he paused and paled rapidly, suddenly waving his hands around her, the pale appendages fluttering as Sirius embraced his hidden mother-hen side. He was so funny sometimes.

“No, no, that’s not – well, that _is_ what I meant – but what I mean to say, Bambi, is that sometimes adults say rude things, but that language is very bad and you shouldn’t use it. Not that you obviously would, you’re too cute and sweet to do something like –”

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK!!!”

Dahlia spun to the doorway in tandem with her new father in time to see Melania storm in with a look of thunder etched to her face. _Shit, this woman can be terrifying. How awesome._

“Did I just hear you refer to our esteemed family in such a vulgar manner? How _dare_ you corrupt this poor girl’s perspective with your unseemly language! I will have you know that this family is …”

As Dahlia watched the teeny tiny Lady Black rip into her grandson over his foul mouth, the recipient of said lecture actually cowering in his chair – _He looks a damn sight more scared than when his hag of a mother shouted, but I suppose he doesn’t actually want to fling Fiendfyre in Melania’s face_ – she grinned to herself, settling back into the luxurious cushions of the sofa while munching on a custard cream and enjoying the spontaneous entertainment.

They might be mad, but joining this family was going to be _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Personally I'm not too happy with this chapter, but I'm not entirely sure why. It could just be that I'm exhausted and my mind isn't working properly, it's a definite possibility right now lol
> 
> Hogwarts and/or meeting some classmates should happen in the next chapter, unless my mind comes up with something else and I go off on a tangent. It's probably best to just wait and see what happens, that's what I'm doing lol
> 
> Fair warning for anyone expecting a response or an update on any of my other fics, I'm actually working nights this coming week - my managers hate me, I swear - so I'm probably going to be exhausted all the time. I wouldn't expect much from me.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it, and I'll see you guys next time.
> 
> Happy reading!


	6. What's wrong with having minions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own 'Harry Potter'

"What do you think?"

"God help us all."

A pout was all he got in response and he rolled his eyes. _Little shit._

The brat that he thought he'd finally escaped through death – a death which was rather more gruesome than he'd wished for, but one he'd nonetheless expected from the pattern of his train wreck-infested life, truth be told – only to end up suffering in the afterlife – which, in hindsight, he wasn't sure why he was surprised by that fact – thanks to being stuck with the insufferable child that looked far too much like her piece of shit sire, was now peering up at him trying to emotionally blackmail him into giving a shit about her. Or trying to wind him up. He had a feeling it was the latter, it usually was.

It also always worked, unfortunately.

"What is it? Why are you here? I was under the impression that you were happily ensconced away with your new – and disturbingly insane – family. I didn't think those psychopaths would allow you the freedom to wander halfway around the country without an escort, seeing as they're woefully ignorant and currently view your imbecilic self as a mere 'child'," he sneered at her, feeling his ire steadily climb at her irritating nonchalance. _Merlin, she's as annoying as Potter, and unfortunately with Lily's stubbornness_. It really was an unfortunate combination, and not for the first time he despaired of his best friend and enemy procreating together, though for years now those thoughts had occurred more in reaction to the abject horror he felt upon analysing their bastard spawn. If there were two people who probably shouldn't have had a child together, it was James Potter and Lily Evans. The little shit in front of him was more than enough proof, and he was rather grateful the brat didn't have any siblings to help spur his journey of a life of alcoholism and potion addiction towards completion.

_But seriously, how the fuck did she escape Black Manor?_

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How did you get here without any of the elder Blacks noticing your exit?"

"Kreacher."

Severus slowly lifted his head and gazed down at the currently eleven-year-old face grinning impishly at him, even if the midget turd had an expression of 'duh, how didn't you get that already?' on her pale face.  _Brat_. It seemed as if the adoption potion had done its job at least, as the girl in front of him now boasted creamy, pale skin, a slight curl to what was previously an untamed bird's nest – even if he'd helped her grow it out, that didn't mean her hair hadn't once looked to be allergic to the mere sight of a brush – with higher cheekbones below the bright green eyes that now carried a silver tint.  _As if Lily and Potter weren't enough, now they added Black to the mix. I suppose the silver lining is she wasn't raised by them, at least._  (Just because he'd once loved Lily and considered her his best friend, didn't mean he was unaware of her faults. He still vividly remembered her having to hold a neighbour's baby when they were teenagers, and she'd screamed and nearly dropped the infant in her crazed panic. There was a reason Severus had reacted to the announcement of her pregnancy by drinking an entire case of firewhiskey and forgetting every single second of that night. And now he thought about it, he would  _not_ be the slightest bit surprised if Dahlia was as fucked up as she was because her own mother had dropped her on her head during infancy.)

He raised a brow in question. "Kreacher? That decrepit, pure-blood supremacist house-elf that spends his days listening to the insane ramblings of a dead hag? Why on earth would he facilitate your journey to the castle without another Black present?"

Dahlia grinned at him, the expression bordering on a smug smirk while her eyes glinted with wicked satisfaction, almost as if the brat was screaming 'I know something you don't, you annoying twat.' And yes, that last part may sound as if he'd added it out of spite, but after having spent the past god-knows how many years trapped with the little shit for no other reason than the amusement of  _that_ entity – and he  _will_ enact vengeance, one way or another;  _prick_ – he was well acquainted with her particular brand of vulgarity-laced insults.

Anyway, insults aside, the brat had done something. Probably something that would require him to dope himself up on headache-relievers just to cope, but what else was new?

The man looked her in the eye, trying to prevent his inner resignation from making an appearance on his face and giving her more ammunition to piss him off. "What have you done?"

The grin widened as the diminutive girl turned and started rifling through her pockets, pulling out a black silk bag that reflected the light from the torches on the walls. Dahlia loosened the drawstring and reached inside, pulling on something that gave off a clinking sound as it came out. With dexterity obviously born of her innate Quidditch talent – not that he'd ever give the cretin the satisfaction of admitting to such a fact out loud – the girl flicked the item in the air and caught it by what appeared to be a chain, leaving the heavy object swinging below.

Severus took one look at the mystery item and stifled a groan, wishing fervently and not for the first time that the little shit in front of him would just do things normally for once.

"Ta-da! And voila! And any other announcement sound you want to make, because here is the thing we've been looking for, all without involving Sirius or any other Black to fuck things up and ruin everything with their special brand of crazy.

"Say hello to Slytherin's locket."

Severus privately thought that Dahlia looked far too cheerful to be standing there in his office holding a malevolent receptacle for a portion of a megalomaniac's soul, but seeing as this was the same stupid child who thought that trying to outfly a dragon on a broomstick was logical – yet another occasion he couldn't fully remember after drowning his sorrows in an attempt to block out his thundering heartbeat;  _stupid girl_  – he probably shouldn't be surprised she found no issue with it.

_Idiot_.

"So … what now? I mean, I'm still kind of walking around with Voldy's accidental soul shard in my head, and unless you've figured out a way to get it out yet – preferably without 'temporarily' offing me, you shitty wanker – then we're kind of stuck."

_How eloquent_. "Funnily enough,  _brat_ , we've already established what the situation is. I do believe Albus is following up on a lead at the present time, something with Nicolas Flamel."

"You're kidding?" the girl questioned incredulously. "He's actually asking  _Nicolas Flamel_  for help after he went and bloody killed the world's most famous alchemist, all for the sake of curiosity and a badly-set Dark Lord trap? He's actually got the audacity to do that?"

Severus closed his eyes in pain as he mentally agreed with the child. Albus had no shame whatsoever, but after Severus pointed out the callous nature of his current visit, the old goat just waved him off and cheerfully reminded him that he hadn't yet done that in this time so he wasn't accountable, and that Flamel had no idea, so all was good. Then the crackpot popped a dozen or so sugar-infested sweets in his mouth and wandered off humming an upbeat tune, leaving all administrative duties to him and generally being a geriatric pain in the arse.

In other words, Severus' thoughts were very much in line with Dahlia's for once.  _How disgusting._

"Regardless, we now have all the Horcruxes that exist in this point in time, so let's go and put this vile thing away behind some wards." He turned and led the girl through his quarters and into the dungeons, rather grateful his annoying colleagues – which now included a Voldemort-infested Quirrell;  _oh, the joy_  – were all either not in the castle or in their own offices. He'd rather not deal with them nosing around and trying to figure out what The-Girl-Who-Lived was doing in Hogwarts just weeks before her scheduled admittance.

"Speaking of the insane Black elf," he began quietly, "exactly how did you convince him to give you the treasured memento of his late and beloved master?"

Dahlia shrugged carelessly. "You know, told him I knew what happened, how Regulus was a hero and all, and how I'd get rid of the locket for him. Boom, instant loyalty and one locket. I found an old Prefect badge belonging to Regulus in the manor so I gave it to Kreacher as a memento."

"You blackmailed the elf," he deadpanned.

"I did not!" she retorted indignantly. "I just gave him something to remember his master by, I didn't blackmail him."

He snorted. "Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally."

The girl opened her mouth to argue with him – probably more on principal and from reflex than any genuine opposing beliefs, contrary little shit that she was – before a considering look crossed her face and she cocked her head, musing over the conversation before shrugging and carrying on. "Whatever. I've got more important things to worry about than that."

He raised a brow. "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

She turned and shot him a truly devious smirk that promised untold pain and misery for her target. That smirk in particular never failed to set his nerves on edge, even years later, though at the present time he was rather thankful that he clearly wasn't the target of what was obviously going to be some rather horrid mayhem. And to be completely honest, he couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck about her future target, either. For once he wanted to sit back and enjoy the chaos from out of the line of fire, and if that made him an arsehole, well, he'd never exactly claimed otherwise.

"Guess who got an invitation to Malfoy Manor?"

Severus took a moment to glance down at the walking representation of chaos next to him before his mind considered younger Draco Malfoy. A spoiled, stuck-up, self-entitled snob who Severus knew had actually held aspirations of holding the Black Lordship one day, and a boy who thought he was right one hundred percent of the time.

Dahlia was going to destroy him.

_Well, it wouldn't hurt to knock him down a few pegs, I suppose_. "Just make sure you don't irreparably maim him or anything, he's technically your cousin now."

Her nose scrunched up in disgust for a second before an impish grin flashed across her face. "Of course I won't, I still owe Narcissa, you know.

"Besides, mental torture's more fun for someone like him."

Severus mentally conceded the point and carried on through the hallways, steadfastly ignoring the gleeful plans of mental destruction taking place next to him. It wasn't as if he was getting paid to care or anything.

_Good luck Draco, or good luck Dahlia?_

He considered the two parties and internally shrugged.

_Like I care, both brats deserve hell._

* * *

Dahlia looked over at the pouting face of her once-school nemesis, his shoulder being held in what was obviously a vice grip by his mother whose face revealed absolutely nothing other than gentle happiness towards her son. Which was obviously fake - though the woman did look strangely happy to be reacquainted with Sirius; _apparently there's_ some  _decency in the Black genes_  - but bloody  _hell_ was Narcissa awesome at keeping a straight face. Though considering this woman once stood face to face with Voldy and straight-up lied despite his famed Legilimency abilities, Dahlia wasn't that surprised.

She  _was_ surprised that Lucius wasn't actually Head of the Blonde Albinos yet, but then again when had she ever given a crap about this particular family? Abraxas Malfoy was an inch shorter than his son and had practically the same facial features, just with a few scarce wrinkles and slightly shorter hair tied back. He also looked like a right miserable sod, but she hadn't expected any differently to be honest.

Lucius himself looked rather tense from his position next to his father, though whether that was because his family manor was being invaded by members of a family renowned for murder and insanity, or because Pollux Black was directly staring at him, silver eyes boring into his as a smirk played about the older man's face, was to be discovered. Either way, Malfoy the Middle was  _not_ comfortable right now, and Dahlia was enjoying every minute of the Black causing unease from just standing there doing nothing.

Pollux was kind of hilarious.

Sirius' other Black grandfather didn't seem to give two fucks about playing nice with the Malfoys and was very obvious about how he wasn't impressed by his youngest granddaughter's husband. Which, Dahlia could very well see the point. Narcissa was pretty cool all things considered, but Lucy was such a prissy prick that seemed to prefer swanning around like one of the family peacocks instead of raising his own bloody son like a normal human being.  _Fucking hell, I bet that's his Animagus form, too._  She took a moment to imagine the blood twit as an albino peacock and bit her tongue to stop from snorting. _Fucking hell, that's too believable._

Arcturus caught her eye and discretely raised a brow, and Dahlia quickly flicked her eyes to Lucius then to the peacocks visible on the lawn outside and back again, lips twitching as she fought an evil grin. The man repeated her movements before a look of comprehension dawned on his face, eyes glinting with wicked mirth as he made the connection. The Lord Black discretely took a deep breath as his wife greeted Lord Malfoy with the blandest of smiles usually reserved for someone she was mentally measuring for a coffin, and fixed a stoic expression to his face that did nothing to make Dahlia forget the grin that was present mere moments ago.  _And here I thought none of these psychiatric escapees would have a sense of humour. Guess I was wrong._

Truth be told, it seemed that her new – and hilariously overprotective – father wasn't the only one to find amusement in extraordinarily inappropriate settings, however his – and apparently hers now;  _Jesus wept, my life's screwy_  – relatives had more self-control and therefore were more adept at making themselves seem more put-together and mature. But they weren't, they just faked it better.

They were  _so_ fun.

Arcturus in particular was hysterical to be around for Dahlia. While he did get that pained look in his silver eyes upon witnessing her unholy glee at the magical prowess of the older Blacks – and fuck yeah was she gleeful, they were  _amazing_ – not to mention her own magical power, power that had been unveiled upon letting her borrow a Black wand to teach her a few offensive spells that had resulted in a wall disintegrating into ashes – she did  _not_ aim for that portrait of Walburga Black in the manor, the spell going off-course was a complete and utter accident, of course it was – Arcturus was also rather intrigued with her childish musings of the House system and its faults. The fact that he was openly amused by her words proved to her that, not only was he  _not_ fooled by her innocent act in the slightest –  _eh, you win some, you lose some_  – he actually agreed with her in some ways and was quite content for her to cheerfully go off and confuse and manipulate people for the fun of it.

Dahlia kind of loved him if she was being honest. Just last night she'd mentioned bringing up her ideas to her new cousin and the elder Black just smirked at her and ruffled her hair. As far as she was concerned, that was tacit approval and Draco Malfoy was going to be her newest victim. Because she  _really_ couldn't be dealing with his snobby posturing and whatever other bullshit this spoilt princess might think up this time seeing as she had just kind of swept in from nowhere and taken the chance of being Lord Black from him before he could even blink.

Besides, why  _shouldn't_ she have fun in this life? Death could kiss her arse if he thought she was going to dance to his tune.

"Hi! My name's Dahlia! It's so nice to have a cousin, I've always wanted family my own age to get along with. And we're going to Hogwarts together, isn't it exciting? I can't wait to see everything, what about you? I love your home by the way, the decorations are so pretty! What about the rest of the manor? And the gardens? Can you show me around? Pleeeeaaaase?"

Young, self-entitled Draco Malfoy had been raised around pure-blood propriety since he'd been born, was constantly surrounded by class and wealth in his little self-absorbed bubble of arrogance, and he knew how to navigate the world of politics and status thanks to his family's teachings – well,  _theoretically_ he knew how to behave, he was just so spoiled he was practically a textbook Gryffindor whenever he opened his mouth – so formality was something Ferret – he was getting a nickname too, she'd decided – expected and had an idea of how to deal with.

A cheerful and naïve eleven-year-old girl with a penchant for hyperactivity? Not so much.

"Er – that is, I mean," the ferret stuttered at her, looking totally bewildered by her behaviour as she completely ignored any idea of etiquette and bulldozed through the conversation. His discomfort was fucking hilarious; she was  _so_ going to show this memory to Severino and Brian later, the three of them had had many a bitching session over how utterly annoying the one and only Draco Malfoy was to deal with on any given day. Severino had monologued way too often on Ferret's misguided definition of the word 'cunning' and causing problems for Slytherin – she was kind of surprised his roommates hadn't smothered him with his own pillow in her first life, truth be told – not to mention the oh-so-infamous time in sixth year and his utterly stupid attempts to assassinate one of the most magically powerful wizards (regardless of his fucked up-ness) by using what amounted to a poorly directed game of Imperious Curse Chinese Whispers. Like, how was that ever going to work? Seriously. How Ferret managed to maintain outstanding grades yet have the common sense of Hagrid in the vicinity of dangerous creatures never failed to baffle her.

She smirked inwardly but beamed at the bewildered blonde, relishing in his look of 'what the fuck is happening?'  _Karma's a bitch, and you, my not-so-good-sir, deserve every minute of it. Bloody twat._

"That's great! Come on, you'll have to show me around! We're family, after all!"

Dahlia briefly shot over to her new father and hugged him carefully, making sure she didn't squeeze too hard and smiled genuinely when he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. She quickly turned to the elder Blacks and grinned at them brightly, nearly snorting at the maniacal gleam shining in Melania's eyes. (From what Dahlia could tell, the Lady Black seemed to despise the blonde bimbos for some reason, and it appeared the prospect of unleashing Dahlia onto them was a very attractive one to her. Dahlia was more than happy to oblige.)

The once more eleven-year-old –  _puberty's going to suck balls_  – smiled brightly once more at her new cousin –  _still fucking gross, but c'est la vie, I suppose_  – before grabbing his hand and pulling him out the room, very much directing the flustered brat before he could take control of the situation and find some way to make himself seem more important. Which he wasn't, but she'd give him points for trying.

As she dragged him through the hallway chattering about the pros and cons of dogs versus cats – a completely mundane subject that had him side-eyeing her and looking as if he was a split second away from fleeing for his sanity, which was a little rude if you asked her, it was a perfectly fine topic of conversation,  _shut the fuck up, Severino, you know nothing, you never even leave the dungeons, you vitamin D-deficient bat_  – Dahlia wondered what the best method for staving off Ferret's impending superiority complex while also giving the two Malfoy seniors a potential coronary was.

She glanced at a portrait on the wall nearby and smirked to herself.  _That'll do._

* * *

"So, what House do you think you'll be in at Hogwarts?"

Ferret glanced warily at her from his position next to her on one of the stone benches in the gardens - which were pretty nice all things considered, but the grounds at Black Manor were infinitely better in her opinion, if only for the fuck-ton of hidden corners and alcoves hidden all over, all of which were protected by traps in varying degrees of lethality; those blasting curses were  _awesome_  - before he carefully turned to her and visibly pulled every ounce of composure around himself like a cloak and puffed himself up.

She couldn't tell if it was more hilarious or cute.

"As a Malfoy, of  _course_  I shall be going to Slytherin, there's no other choice. I suppose Ravenclaw would be an acceptable alternative, but  _certainly_  not Gryffindor. And Hufflepuff would be awful, I think I'd go home if I ended up there, I -"

"But why?" Dahlia interrupted innocently, cocking her head to the side.

"What?" the boy asked with a frown.

"Why would you go home if you ended up in Hufflepuff? What's wrong with that?"

The blonde looked at her aghast. "Dahlia, going to that particular House would be social suicide. It would entirely ruin any reputation of decent standing, not to mention they're all so placid and weak. Only those who lack the defining qualities of the other Houses end up there; they're the leftovers."

The girl briefly thought of Tonks, Cedric, Susan and the infamous Newt Scamander and tried not to snort.  _Yeah, the leftovers. Sure, whatever you say, Ferret. Not to mention ..._

"But what about Gran Melania? She's Lady Black, after all. I don't think she'd like it if she heard someone calling her weak or anything," Dahlia mused to herself, very much appreciating the albino paling even more than she thought possible.  _This is just as fun as pissing off Severino, I'll have to do it more often._

"Er - yes, I mean," he began, obviously flustered and not a little fearful, his grey eyes flicking around the hedges as if Melania Black was going to appear and hex him dead - which she obviously (and unfortunately) wasn't going to do, though Dahlia would make sure the older woman knew Ferret's opinion on the badgers, if only for her own amusement - and cleared his throat. "Well, of course there are exceptions to the usual standards, but the Hufflepuffs are known to be rather ...  _kinder_  than the other Houses," he finished with a sneer, somehow regaining some of his composure.  _Maybe Narcissa passed down some decent parts to her spawn, after all._

"But wouldn't that be something of an advantage?" she asked before picking up one of the little sandwiches between them and happily munching away.

He scoffed. "How would being a  _Hufflepuff_  be an advantage?"

Dahlia carefully swallowed and beamed at her new cousin, relishing in the sudden tenseness in his shoulders. "Well, think of it this way: if anything ever happened at school, who would be the first people suspected?" Before the prat could start some rant on the superiority of the snakes, she carried on her mental manipulation. "Of course Slytherin doesn't deserve it, but they  _are_  usually suspected before anyone else. Ravenclaws are viewed as having the adequate intelligence to carry out something bad, and the Gryffindors are impulsive enough. Nobody ever suspects the Hufflepuffs of anything."

She blinked wide eyes in an astonished face and held in a cackle. "I mean, if you wanted to get away with anything, wouldn't being in Hufflepuff basically help you?"

"What -"

"I mean, if anything, wouldn't making sure you went into Hufflepuff be the ultimate Slytherin thing to do? Well, going into any House other than Slytherin when you want to go unnoticed would be the cunning thing to do. If you want to blend in and give yourself cover so you can carry out whatever plans you have, going into the House with the most suspicious reputation isn't going to do you any favours. And for Hufflepuff, they have a great alumni network to help get jobs after graduation, not to mention that like, seventy percent of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are former Hufflepuffs, so clearly they're not weak like people stereotype.

"Long story short, nobody ever suspects a Hufflepuff."

The blonde boy sat staring at her with wide eyes and his mouth gaping, his pure-blood mask abandoned in the face of an argument he clearly hadn't thought of before, an argument that made a startling amount of sense when you thought about it. (And seeing young Draco Malfoy actually use that dead organ between his ears for once almost made her cry tears of pride for the baby ferret.  _Now I think about it, what_ is  _a baby ferret called? Kit? Cub? Something like that. Whatever, he's finally standing on four legs, so bravo!_ )

The girl inched closer slowly and peered up at the idiot through her lashes, letting her eyes tear up as she stuck her bottom lip out. (And if she had to think of the lack of gaming consoles in her life to make herself cry, that was between her and her game-deprived mind.  _Don't worry Cloud, we'll meet again in a few years, I promise._ )

"Draco, are ... are you going to hate me if I end up as a Hufflepuff?"

Between her teary eyes, look of complete and utter misery, and the way she made her voice hitch with emotion, poor little Draco Malfoy stood no chance. The boy froze, looking at her in abject horror as she seemingly broke down at the prospect of losing her new cousin to a millennia-old, common sense-deprived rivalry.  _(Fucking hell, the poor sod looks like he's been hit with a Body-Bind and a Confundus at the same time, shame I don't have a camera on hand.)_  Dahlia slightly bowed her head and sniffed, inwardly grinning as the blonde's hands seemed to spasm, fingers twitching as he continued to freak out at the sight of a preteen girl being so emotional because of his hypothetical reaction to her hypothetical scenario.

Draco Malfoy might be a spoiled and educated eleven-year-old boy, but he certainly wasn't equipped to deal with crying eleven-year-old girls.

"Of course not! I mean, we're - we're cousins, family, so - so no, I mean -"

"Do you mean that?" Merlin, she was having too much fun with this. She didn't think blinking back tears was going to be  _this_  effective.

The boy stared at the tears building up at the corners of her eyes in terror, nodding his head rapidly as if the movement would banish Dahlia's emotions and save him. "Of course! Yes, I mean it. Even if you end up in Gryffindor like your birth parents I'll stand by you, so please don't cry!"

Dahlia lurched forward and wrapped her arms around his chest, burying her face in his shirt as she let loose and cried from laughter. Draco seemed to choke at the feeling of tears on his chest and she had to hastily disguise her snort as a sob. _Fuck me, I don't know how long I can hold back the hysterics. Severino and Brian are going to_ love  _this memory later._

The feeling of stiff and awkward hands on her back caused her to bite her tongue; Ferret was trying to comfort her! _Aww, how cute. Bad execution, but at least he's trying._  And all it took was some overt and uncomfortable display of sad emotions from a young girl to fall over himself and reassure her. If she'd known this last time, she would have just burst into tears in front of him and been done with all the rivalry crap.

Being the completely innocent and adorable young girl she was - the opinions of vampire bats didn't count, thank you very much - Dahlia pulled back after reigning in her twisted amusement and beamed up at the ferret shyly, making sure to blink her ridiculously cute eyes - the adoption potion upped the cute factor to 'fucking beautiful and mesmerising' and now people had a weird habit of just staring at her eyes; _why are there so many creeps around me?_  - so that the tears were seen over and over again just to make the blonde cave even more.

"Thank you, Draco. You're a true friend."

The young boy smiled at her, looking both panicked at her previous 'crying' -  _sorry, not sorry_  - and relieved as the emotions faded. Funnily enough, he actually looked to be rather genuine for once, smiling without gazing at her as if she were a worthless insect stuck to the bottom of his shoe.  _Look at that, progress in just a few hours! A hundred points to me!_

"You're welcome, Dahlia."

She smiled beatifically to disguise her inner maniacal glee and what would no doubt be a rather stereotypical villain-esque laughter if she dared to let it out - not that she would lest Severino open his annoying mouth and start denigrating her for something that she didn't care about but would ultimately retaliate for in the most humiliating and painful way possible, not to mention the likelihood of Brian gazing at her in a disappointed manner before he started monologuing (or sololiquizing seeing as nobody ever really listened to the delusional centenarian) about something that was both gently chiding and extraordinarily unhelpful, even if somewhat amusing.

(Her life was about as simple as the stories in the  _Assassin's Creed_  franchise. And unfortunately less adventurous.  _Why can't we have awesome mysteries to solve instead of one crazy moron going off the rails every half-century or so and being a murderous inconvenience? Where's the fun in_ that _?_ )

Dahlia bent her head to grab another sandwich and smirked to herself, thinking about Ferret's willingness to do what she wanted upon witnessing tears.

_I have a minion._

* * *

"What."

The flat tone caused her to fall back into the sofa and start giggling hysterically at the unimpressed look on the Potions Master's face.  _Ah, this is a sight for sore eyes. Definitely going to reward Kreacher for this later, he's too good at sneaking underage children out of warded buildings. I wonder if Regulus was something of a rebel or whatnot, the batty old elf didn't even blink an eye. Or maybe it's a Black thing, who knows?_

Severino sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering darkly under his breath as he seemed to plot the best way to kill her and dump her body in some remote location where the elements would helpfully assist in the destruction of her corpse and ensure that nobody ever found out what happened to the young and innocent girl she was, all the while making sure that nobody ever even suspected the man in front of her and allowing him to get away with brutal murder for all of eternity.

... And maybe she was reading a few too many murder mysteries lately, but she was  _bored_  and they were  _cool_ , so anyone who mocked her could go and fuck a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"So, not only have you manipulated an insane elf to suit your inherent need to plough through and destroy every single rule applicable to you –"

"In my defence, barely any instance of me breaking a rule was my fault. I mean, did you  _forget_  the seventy-year-old psycho with daddy issues trying to off me thanks to some ridiculous blow to his pride?"

"– now you've essentially given Draco a subconscious phobia of crying young girls just so you can manipulate him at your leisure –"

"Don't say that as if you didn't laugh when I first mentioned it, you bloody hypocritical recluse."

"– and of course there's this madness. I still don't know what Albus was thinking listening to you."

Dahlia snorted and sunk back into the cushions as she rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, you need to calm down. Listen, as dark as it sounds, all three of us are physically able of putting someone down if they cause trouble. Besides, we don't know that this'll go spectacularly wrong. Lighten up for once."

"Lighten up?" Severino asked softly, looking as if he'd love nothing more than to throttle her –  _what else is new?_  – as he glared at her. "Do you have any idea as to the enormity of what we're about to attempt? There is a chance we might  _die_ , you imbecilic child!"

She shrugged. "Hey, I was enjoying my afterlife before we ended up here. Do you have any idea what it's like to suddenly lose a pair of tits?"

The man subtly cringed and his face twisted in disgust.  _I love myself_ so _much right now_. Seriously, she couldn't help but give herself a metaphorical pat on the back for provoking such a response in the dour man. She  _so_  hoped he'd end up with a daughter one day, it would be  _hilarious_. Maybe she should have an emotional breakdown when she started her period again and cry all over him or something?

_Oh, decisions, decisions …_

"Anyway," she carried on, "does it really matter what happens? You think Death's going to just sit back and let us blow ourselves up and disappear? We're his – it's? – favourite entertainment right now. Besides, this ritual's got like, two outcomes according to Flamel: one, we fuck it up and have to employ some good, old-fashioned violence to get out of a sticky situation – which is debatable considering the likely strength of the twat after said ritual – or two, we get it right and get one over on Death. Simple."

"Simple," the man repeated in a deadpan voice. "Of course. How could it  _possibly_  be anything else? It's not as if we're dabbling in things even the worst of the Death Eaters would balk at. You know, considering this would end up with a one-way ticket to Azkaban at the very  _least_  if we were caught."

The girl waved off the commonplace sarcasm – maybe he needed a Snickers or something? Though at this point it was more like he needed to make up for three decades worth of confection-deficiency;  _poor bloke_ – and grinned wickedly. "But Severino, we're just following the directions of  _Albus Dumbledore_. How could we  _possibly_  be to blame for going along with the plans of such a powerful wizard and distinguished member of our society?"

Severino raised a brow that did nothing to disguise the amused glint in his coal eyes. "You're going to throw Albus under the bus?"

"Like a bowling ball," she replied without an ounce of shame.

The man snorted. "I don't think there's an analogy like that, you know."

"There is now."

Before the possible Vampire could reply –  _this bears further investigation; maybe I can find Remus and borrow his nose_  – Dobby popped in, looking rather ecstatic in his mismatched outfit of a maroon chequered shirt, moss-green miniature bell-bottoms, a woolly royal-purple beany, and two thick neon socks, one orange, one lime-green, and grinned at them both, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did.

"Miss Lia, Mister Sevvy, Headmaster Dumby said things is ready!"

Dahlia swallowed her laughter – Dobby's naming sense was  _wondrous_  to behold – and grinned at the diminutive ball of excitement, smirking inwardly at the memory of Lucy mentioning one of his elves going missing for some reason.  _For once, Death actually did something_ good _. Just once, though. I doubt the eternal control-freak'll ever do something that could be considered a favour ever again. Immortal wanker._

"Thanks, Dobby." As soon as Dahlia spoke, the new Hogwarts elf started bouncing even more and Dahlia felt rather contented at Severino's expression of mental pain tinged with dire irritation.  _I wonder what it says about me that I could probably cast a Patronus just from remembering that expression_. She thought that over before mentally shrugging and stretching out her back. She was awesome, no doubt about it.

A moment later, Dobby popped away to do whatever it was he doing before the crazy pensioner running the castle called him to play messenger. The girl got up and stretched out her back before turning to the man across the room with an inquisitive expression.

"You ready?"

He snorted. "Why wouldn't I be?" Despite the sarcasm - which was so commonplace now she barely registered it anymore - the man got up and stalked out the room, walking quickly as if he was sincerely regretting this course of action. Which he probably was, but she honestly didn't give a crap about his internal hissy fit right now. She wasn't lying when she said things had the chance to go wrong, but she wasn't exactly scared of dying or anything. And the chance to throw a metaphorical middle finger at Death was far too attractive a prospect to pass up. (Ordinarily she would have been more wary of the eternal pain in the arse popping up and ruining her chaotic plans, but seeing as the last time they saw him - _them, let's just stick with them for my waning sanity's sake_  - they'd settled in to have a go at  _World of Warcraft_ , she didn't think her supernatural stalker would be emerging from whatever pit they were in any time soon.  _Thank fuck for that small reprieve_.)

As Dahlia followed the perpetually-gloomy arsehole through the dungeons - _and that's being nice considering the fucker once ranted for four fucking hours straight on how being tormented in the afterlife wasn't anything shocking considering his sad life. I mean, come on. He isn't the only one who had a shitty childhood, but not all of us ended up as one-dimensional beginner villains to prepare adventurers for more difficult battles to come. Just calm down and stop whinging, I'm getting a bloody migraine_  - she took a moment to imagine the ramifications of this little jaunt going (her version) of right. Besides the obvious hell that would occur in the castle - hell that would be as entertaining as crawling along in a cardboard box Snake-style; _maybe I should have a go when school starts up, I'm sure Brian'll be alright with a spontaneous heart attack_  - there were also other factors to consider. The war. Politics. Whether or not Ferret would have a full-on mental breakdown having to deal with the fall-out.

That last one was very important despite any snide remarks from Dr Frankenstein's assistant over there.

"Ah, there you two are! I was a little concerned that I'd be searching the castle's lower levels for a mysteriously-vanished body for a moment there."

Severino-Bat just scowled at the old codger. "Yes, you sound  _so_  concerned. Thanks for the inspiration though, she's driving me insane."

"Hey!" she cried, glaring at the bastard. It wasn't her fault he had no sense of humour. Or a willingness to try new things. Or any semblance of a human psyche. Maybe he was just an empty shell conjured to teach Potions 'cause Brian was a stingy git? Considering one of the Professors was a bloody ghost who spouted the same lectures over and over again without any thought to how old they even were, it wasn't a stretch of the imagination in any sense of the word.

Dahlia ignored - with a practiced ease that said  _far_  more about the relationship between the three of them than she was comfortable admitting, not that she'd admit to there being any fault on her part considering Death was clearly the one-thing-entity-whatever that was responsible for this shit-fest;  _God, I hope karma works on immortal twats with a penchant for Schadenfreude, they're going to be_ so  _screwed_  - Dumb and Dumber doing their standard bickering routine -  _maybe I could charge people to watch it, I'd earn a fuck-ton of galleons_  - and gazed over the stone room, nodding to herself nonchalantly despite the creepy atmosphere seeping into every inch of the cavernous room.

_Yep, definitely looks like a horror film. 'Saw' meets 'Practical Magic', perhaps?_

She wasn't even lying, sadly enough. The dark and dreary ritual room lit by flickering eerie flame torches dotted around the room, the back-to-basics salt lines around all the exits, not to mention the 'holy-shitting-hell-that's-massive' ritual circle of lines and endless runes drawn in chalk on the stone floor. Which was  _really_  bad in so many respects considering just seeing this magical monstrosity would be enough for the three of them to be sharing a wing in Azkaban if one of the fuck-wits from the DMLE caught sight of it. Or for them to share the Eternal-Sleep Blanket that was also known to the sheep-like masses as the Veil. (Her moniker was so much better, end of discussion. And hers wasn't deliberately and obtusely vague and weirdly mystical for the sake of being mystical - or for the sake of not wanting to admit they weren't sure what actually laid on the other side of the Death Curtain. She made much more sense than 'Veil.'  _Really, veil to bloody what, exactly?_ )

The circle was broken up at regular intervals by seven different smaller circles and a huge cauldron in the middle - _fucking hell, all we need is a snivelling rat and it's fourth year all over again_  - with a rather questionable-looking substance inside that Dahlia was in  _no_  hurry to identity. Mostly because she could claim plausible deniability and use Severino as an angry and bitter meat shield, but he didn't need to know that. The various Horcruxes they'd amassed over the past few months -  _still pissed it was so much easier this time, it's not as if I wanted to have a peaceful time as a teenager last time around or anything, nooooo, of course not, I was_ ecstatic  _to hunt down itty bitty pieces of Mr Tom-I-have-a-daddy-complex-and-god-knows-how-many-other-complexes-from-my-fucked-up-childhood-living-in-war-torn-London-then-being-treated-as-the-next-coming-of-fucking-Lucifer-all-because-the-sugar-loving-hippy-posing-as-a-school-teacher-was-too-high-on-idealistic-optimism-to-see-how-this-approach-might-bite-him-in-the-arse-years-down-the-line-Riddle_  - were also in the Zombie Circle in front of her. (And the extraordinarily illegal pieces of magic were also something she was ignoring for her own self-preservation. Say what you will about the Blacks, they were geniuses when it came to saving your own skin.)

Said Horcruxes were in five of the seven circles, looking rather innocuous considering their status as key pieces of evidence in several different murder investigations over the past few decades. And the fucked-up magic of course, but Dahlia was pretty  _meh_  in regards to people doing screwy magic thanks to a sad deficiency of logic and common sense by now. When your entire life in the magical community consisted of attempted murder and a temper tantrum-fuelled war, people trying to escape the joys of mortality kind of took a back seat. Besides, there were more important things to worry about. Like whether or not some stupid fucker had actually thought making those eye-searing robes that Brian wore was a good idea, or if the pensioner had gone ahead and desecrated the history of the Elder Wand just to transfigure shooting stars onto a neon orange background. (Seriously, those things made her eyes water. Her poor contacts were being disintegrated by revolting fashion choices, and she couldn't tell if was more impressive or horrendous.  _Either way, Brian's getting an orange beard come tomorrow. See how he likes tangerine_  then.)

One of the remaining circles was home to a - thankfully - unconscious Quirrellmort, and hopefully the poor bastard would survive the ritual, though she wasn't holding out much hope. Aside from the fact this was rather arcane and complex magic, the stupid twat  _had_  gone and pledged his very body to a disembodied spirit for the sake of some mythical power boost that would apparently happen from sheer proximity to an insane psycho. If the turban-wearing moron -  _Purple Q-Tip, that works. Doesn't quite roll off the tongue like the others, but it's not like I'm lying or anything, so there, suck on that, Severino!_  - happened to waste away, it was probably because Magic decided to punish him for being an idiot. (Which Dahlia  _totally_  thought should happen way more often in their society, but then again if it did, there probably wouldn't be many magicals left in Britain thanks to the sad state of their mental collective.  _Alas, 'tis a sad world where idiocy is the norm and common sense is as mystical as magic is to muggles_. Then again, seeing as this lack of logic helped her screw with people left, right and centre, she wasn't complaining. Too much. It couldn't be helped when people like Brian thought that announcing the death of a family member via letter and baby on doorstep was a viable means of communication, but if she started on that topic, she wouldn't stop until the school needed a new Headmaster and there was as auspicious funeral to attend.)

The girl rolled her eyes at the sniping behind her - something about where someone could shove their ideas, and some graphic descriptions of forcefully inserting certain artifacts into certain bodily orifices which she wasn't aware was even a  _possibility_ , though considering Brian's propensity towards ignoring how things should work and Severino's natural rage often overcoming the standard limits of the human body, Dahlia supposed she shouldn't discount the possibility of one of the men having to visit Madam Pomfrey at some point thanks to humiliating revenge - and scrunched her nose as she looked at the remaining circle which was currently empty.

Empty and waiting for her Horcrux-infested self, of course.  _Lucky me, as per fucking usual._

Seriously, this was so  _annoying_. I mean, sure it'd be fun to screw over Death and fuck with any and all plans they had - or  _may_  have, Dahlia wasn't too convinced there was much prior planning going on in the mind of the being who got so bored they fucked with the very laws of the universe just for some fresh entertainment - but the whole, 'do a proper ritual' thing was a pain in the arse. Yeah, ritual magic was pretty cool all things considered, but there were so many things they'd had to prepare to do it. It was a bloody nightmare! _Then again ..._  She shot a wary look at the morons a few feet away and scrunched her nose up.  _Ugh, wankers. Couldn't just leave well enough alone,_ could  _they?_

Sure, she was a living Horcrux, and yeah, the soul shard stuck in her head was part of a grown Voldemort who'd clearly dived into the deep end of insanity with maniacal glee, but that didn't mean they had to try and kill her just for the sake of getting rid of her half-sentient parasite.  _I still can't believe those bastards were actually going to stop my bloody heart! I suppose when it comes down to it, being a battery-pack for a fucked-up ritual's way better than being a test dummy for a couple of geezers starting their career as black market doctors. Maybe._

She turned and clicked her fingers, relishing in the look of bewildered fury on Severino's face, almost as if he were thinking, 'Is that vertically-challenged and revolting little shit actually clicking her fingers at me as if I were a misbehaving dog?' (She'd heard too many rants from him at this point not to be able to somewhat guess went on in that murderous mind.) Brian just looked bemused, but considering he'd just been regaling the other man with scandalous tales of Eileen Prince's teen years, he was, once more, completely out of fucks to give in regards to propriety. Not that he ever had many to spare as it was, but he clearly couldn't be bothered right now.  _Standard procedure at this point._

"Okay, enough. I get that the two of you can't help but bicker like a couple of batty old women gossiping about everyone else's business -"

"I'm not a gossip, you little shit!"

"Dahlia dear, there's no need to bring my age into this. That's hardly  _my_  fault."

"- but we do kind of need to get a move on. Who knows when this thing'll run into problems -"

"Finally admitting the utter stupidity of your plans, are we?"

"- so we should get this over and done with to see if murder's going to be on the agenda today -"

"I do wish you weren't so cavalier about this, but I did attend school with your rather terrifying great-grandmother, so I can't say I'm all that shocked."

"- and if not, we can start making things hell for everyone else!"

She finished with a beaming smile, not giving one iota of attention to Sev-Bat who was muttering under his breath and in some snit or another. She wasn't paying too much attention to Brian either, though that had more to do with what his demented smile might imply rather than just plain ignoring. Dahlia might enjoyed being a bit ...  _erratic_  every now and then  _(shut the hell up, Severino, you know nothing)_ , but she was rather fond of whatever sanity she still had buried in the far corners of her mind. (Despite what some people said, the girl did have  _some_  self-awareness.)

Brian clapped his hands together and smiled widely - and worryingly - as he gestured for her to take her place in the Circle of Doom and for their companion to check the cauldron and ... whatever the fuck looked liked it used to be alive inside bubbling away.  _Nope, saw nothing, there's nothing there, absolutely nothing to see here, folks._

"Right then! To make a long explanation short: Dahlia my dear girl, you are to remain silent within your spot and wait for the ritual to end, Severus is here to assist should ...  _complications_  arise, and I myself will be conducting said ritual. Any questions?"

She raised a hand and asked innocently, "How long is this going to take? I'm kind of hungry and Gran Melania said she's going to show me how to bake later."

Severino had a vein twitching in his forehead as he glared at her, his face red with barely-restrained fury and she gave herself a mental pat on the back. Brian just smiled blandly and ignored her -  _how bloody rude; wanker_  - and turned to one of his lovely blood-stained books -  _totally not illegal, I swear on Pettigrew's future grave_  - to glance over what was apparently a rather lengthy and involved incantation in some dead language nobody had even heard of before.

Seeing a rare glance of seriousness in those aged blue eyes -  _I thought I'd see a Crumple-Horned Snorcack before that illusive occurrence_  - Dahlia straightened and stepped into her designated circle, curiously eyeing the runes drawn around her feet. Maybe Ancient Runes would be a better choice this time around?

The feeling of heavy magic pervaded the air as Brian began chanting lowly, the runes lighting up and connecting all seven circles so the magic flowed around all the soul pieces of the one and only Tom Marvolo Riddle, including the one currently squatting within herself.  _Hey, this isn't so bad._

Now, Dahlia was more than aware of how messed up and astronomically unfair her life was, and she also knew that she should never,  _never_  tempt fate when in a difficult situation. So of course, she did, and as soon as the previous thought concerning how calm the ritual was, the Potter Luck ruined it, regardless of her recent adoption giving her another family name to hide behind.

_Oh, shit._

A wave of pain  _slammed_  into her and she fell backwards on the stone floor, cracking her head none too softly. If she were coherent she'd be wondering how this Merlin-forsaken shit-fest was even worse than Wacko-Voldy throwing around the Cruciatus Curse when he was in a hissy fit, but the fact was she wasn't coherent. Dahlia was in such agony that she'd seized up on the ground, unable to even scream or move. Funnily enough, the slam of her head on concrete was a blessing in disguise as she blissfully welcomed the darkness of unconsciousness, eagerly closing her eyes as if sleeping.

_Ah, head injuries, my old friends. Nearly as good as Firewhiskey._

Though just as the woman-turned-girl was about to fully embrace blotting out ritual-induced agony via blunt force trauma - which was a  _totally_  legitimate method pain relief, no matter what Severino said;  _what's wrong with knocking yourself out? You don't feel anything, sometimes you even forget what caused the pain, and you might even score some sympathy. Besides, giving a good whack to the hardware's a pretty good idea, if you ask me_  - the pain vanished immediately as a clanging sound erupted from several feet away. Not that she was paying too much attention to anything other than, 'holy fuck, what the hell just happened and how long have I even been here?'

She felt  _really_  woozy and lightheaded, like that time after the war when she - stupidly; yes, she can own up to her mistakes, thank you very much - tried to drink that fucking, shitty Irish Leprechaun under the table. I mean, she wasn't  _entirely_  sure whether or not Seamus has any of those particular clover-loving midgets in his ancestry, but the point remained. The bastard could inhale alcohol like it was oxygen and she didn't appreciate having to make a nest on the bathroom floor because her stomach decided to punish her for her brain's decision the night before. And why the ever-loving  _fuck_  couldn't her organs work together for once, was that too much to ask for?

Anyway, Dahlia lifted her head and blinked back the tears at the corners of her eyes. Not because of the pain or anything, she was used to feeling a bit like a hit-and-run victim of the runaway Ford Anglia at its most untamed – I mean, between growing up as the household punching bag of her shitty relatives and living in the castle-shaped Dark Lord trap, the absence of pain was actually a rather rare state of events – so her throbbing head wasn't the issue here. No, that honour went to the fact that she was seeing double and the thought of there being more than one Severino or Brian made her want to sob in mental pain.  _God no, please don't do this to me, I've paid my dues! One's bad enough, two'll be hell! Where's the reset button? A respawn point? Anything?! I'll even redo this level, just please don't let the morons multiply!_

Thankfully – for her – Dahlia's mental rant about how bad the two men were with just one version went unheard and Severus Snape didn't accidentally-on-purpose try and slam head against the concrete floor for his own catharsis. The younger of the Two Arseholes she'd lived with in the realm of the dead – or somewhere Death decided was a good location to piss them off – would quite happily go for straight-up murder where she was concerned – not that the feeling wasn't entirely mutual, to be totally honest – while the aged nutjob would just direct that 'Why must you disappoint me so?' look at her before going into some long-winded monologue about her various personality flaws - according to him, anyway;  _I'm fucking perfect, what's he talking about?_  - with a few hilarious but ultimately pointless anecdotes thrown in for no reason whatsoever.

Dahlia gently shook her head and blinked rapidly,  _desperately_  trying to banish that god-awful image of her reluctant time-travelling companions –  _time travel? Reincarnation? Temporal fuck-up of epic proportions? I don't have a bloody clue_  – before her mind snapped from the horror. She ignored the two wands hovering over her -  _aww, how sweet, they're actually trying to help (for once)_  – and sat up slowly, hissing and cursing as her muscles screamed in protest at the action. The girl gingerly prodded at her forehead, ignoring the blood running down her face –  _been there, done that, got the t-shirt_  – to feel for the 'scar' underneath. And lo and behold, it no longer felt like a cut that had only just closed up. Seeing as someone had closed it up for her – probably their resident tsundere who was currently masquerading as a Potions professor – it now felt like the decade-old wound it actually was.

A groan from several feet away caused a massive grin to erupt on her face despite her exhaustion and she shifted so she could face the remnants of the ritual circle. Dahlia briefly took note of the historical artefacts that seemed to have come out the other side intact and functional –  _oh,_ sure _, basilisk venom and fiendfyre are the only options we have; Brian, you're so full of shite_  – so a millennium's worth of history hadn't been flushed down the toilet this time.

What was  _way_  more important right now – well, for  _them_  it was, Death was probably going to have a hissy fit of Malfoy proportions, and she'd bet the entire Potter fortune it would be  _hysterical_  to see – was the huddled form in the centre of the circle, right next to the upturned cauldron which was now empty from ... whatever was in there not five minutes ago.  _Nope, still not thinking about that. I like the contents of my stomach where they are, thanks._

Another person.

Said person groaned again and rolled over, and Dahlia ignored their lack of clothes to give herself a mental pat on the back with what might be  _somewhat_  of a maniacal grin slashed across her face.  _Take that, you eternal pain in the arse!_   _How do you feel about - wait, what? That's not what was supposed to happen._

"What in Merlin's name  _is_  this place?"

Dahlia blinked slowly and rubbed her eyes for extra measure, making doubly sure her contacts were still working properly. She turned shocked eyes on Severino and Brian to see identical perturbed expressions on their faces. Which would have been even more hilarious if it weren't for the fact that she was probably sporting the exact same face thanks to their ...  _success_? I mean,  _technically_  their ritual seemed to have worked, but  _this_  wasn't something they had planned for.

"Where am I, and -  _Dumbledore?!_  Salazar, you look ancient."

With those words, Dahlia lost any iota of composure she may have possessed - which was more than the shitty vamp-bat thought;  _arsehole_  - and snorted loudly, falling back against a chest covered with a thick robe that indicated said bat was acting as her temporary cushion and burst out with loud cackles. Her eyes were streaming and her stomach was aching with the force of her hysterics, but she couldn't bring herself to care at all. She could hear Severino cursing her paternal family and the insanity they seemed to attract like a magnet, and she thought she heard a "how disturbingly fascinating" from Brian, but all she could focus on was the newest person in the room and his appearance compared to what she'd imagined seeing.

In her defence, she hadn't expected to revive Tom Riddle as an eleven-year-old child.

Younger Tom - who looked weirdly cute, in a ruffled and murderous sort of way - blinked wide chocolate-brown eyes at the three of them as he wrapped his arms around himself and glared furiously, even as he kept switching his focus to Brian with a look 'what the actual fuck?' on his slightly chubby face. A look that got even more confused as Brian cheerfully conjured the boy -  _boy! He's a fucking_ child _! What the fuck, Flamel? What kind of ritual did you_ give  _us?! Then again, this_ is  _too funny to ignore_  - a set of multi-coloured robes to cover him.

The Headmaster beamed - and  _he_  got over the shock quick - and twinkled his eyes. "Hello again, Tom. Let's hope this time you actually use your brain!"

The boy twitched like an offended cat -  _holy shit,_ Tom _cat_  - and narrowed his eyes. "I  _beg_  your pardon?"

"You went off the deep end of crazy, literally shredded any sense of logic you had, and went on an ill-planned crusade that got you murdered. Welcome back to life!" she grinned at him, barely holding in her snickers at the sight of his rising incredulity.  _This is fun, no wonder Death likes pissing people off so much._

"...What."

Tomcat opened his mouth - and bloody hell, she couldn't wait to see his response to his newest nickname - before a sudden chill swept through the room and made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. BabyMort in particular -  _nah, that doesn't work as well, he's not half-snake anymore_  - froze where he sat, eyeing the new entity that had appeared in a flourish of black smoke and frost on the floor, stepping out of the badly-conjured special effects clad in a black cloak that covered their whole body and face entirely. The bastard turned to her slowly and pointed a pale finger at her.

_"You."_

Dahlia smirked. "Me."

"Dahlia!" Death whined like a child, and she could literally  _hear_  the pout in their voice. "How could you do this to me?! All I did was take your advice and relax and start that never-ending game - which, in hindsight might have been your plan, and I hate you even more, you little shit - and you go and resurrect  _that_." The ... being (?) finished by jabbing their thumb at newly-alive Tom as if he were nothing more than an afterthought in their conversation.  _If only he had been last time around, I wouldn't have had to worry about going grey before I hit thirty._

The boy flushed indignantly and began to argue back before Death turned to him, smoke billowing even more and frost spreading up the walls. " _You_  ... You have no idea how much of a pain in the arse you've been for me. I could stand here all day and regale you with tales of just how much you cocked up in your quest to gain power - and on a side note, cliche much? I've seen fictional characters with better goals than you - but I really  _would_  be here all day, and I've got me a stave to find. Let me just say this.

"If you even  _think_  about making any more Horcruxes and destroying the very foundation of life, I'll shrink the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, shove it up your rectum, and resize it.  _Repeatedly_. I  _can_  revive you, you know."

Now, Tom Marvolo Riddle might be naturally rather pale, but right now he looked like he could blend in with snow if he so tried.  _Kudos for not pissing himself, though. That was a pretty grim mental image._

As the baby psycho was apparently desperately trying not to earn the attention of the very thing he'd been fleeing from for ... however long he decided to become a megalomaniac - she wasn't completely sure when he went from pre-teen swot to full-on 'I'm-going-to-subjugate-this-country-because-I-had-a-shitty-childhood-which-was-definitely-worse-than-everyone-else's' - said supernatural being turned back to the guilty party with arms crossed.

"So, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

Dahlia grinned. "First thing's first: fuck you, and secondly: you're screwed."

"Are you sure about that? I  _am_  Death, I could just kill him."

She cocked her head to the side innocently, resolutely ignoring the hissing behind her telling her to shut the fuck up -  _bloody rude bat_  - and the chuckles of the perpetually-high OAP. "Really? I mean, I'm  _definitely_  not questioning your capabilities in any way, shape or form," she mused with a bright smile, relishing in the twitches of the shapeless, black mass, "but I  _am_  questioning your will to do so. I mean, you  _did_  essentially resurrect the three of us for nothing more than your twisted amusement -" Tomcat looked like he was choking on thin air;  _poor sod_  "- so it would be kind of pointless to off him, wouldn't it? You shoved us back to the world of the living for entertainment, and surely the three of us messing with the laws of the world is entertainment enough? Besides, what's to stop us from doing something like this over and over again for the rest of our lives? You can't exactly kill us considering the lengths you went to just to get us where we are. I mean, you  _could_  if you want to negate everything you've done in the past couple of months - actually, the past god knows how many years if you want to count the Afterlife of Domestic Hell - but then it would essentially be admitting defeat. You know, going through all that pesky 'ignoring the rules of the universe' stuff to bring us back to life would be wasted just because you'd have to concede that your own decisions were stupid and unnecessary.

"Basically, killing any of us would be proving yourself wrong. Can your ego handle that?"

"... I should have shoved you into a dimension where you were a boy, have you suffer  _that_  hell."

"What hell? Having no periods would be fucking awesome! Do you have any  _idea_  how it feels to -"

A hand slapped over her mouth and pressed firmly as Severino bit out, "For the love of Merlin, do  _not_  finish that sentence. There are certain things which deserve to remain private,  _do you understand_?"

Despite the deadly tone threatening grievous bodily harm and/or evisceration, Dahlia could quite contain a giggle at how easy it was to torment this man with talk of something as common as puberty. The bloke taught hundreds of teenagers - half of which were female - yet he couldn't even handle a brief mention of Satan's Monthly River.  _On the one hand I should probably feel sorry for him, but on the other he_ has  _just given me a fuck-ton of ammunition against him, so ... no, I don't feel bad. Sorry._

(She really wasn't.)

"Whatever, do what you want," muttered the immortal miscreant petulantly. "Just don't come crying to me when he fucks things up.  _Again_." They added the last point in a rather pointed manner that made Tomcat bristle and throw his pre-puberty version of a filthy glare in Death's direction.  _Gold star for him though, a few moments ago he looked like he was going to piss himself._

Dahlia waved him off and said airily, "It's all good, we've already got a contingency plan in place."

Funnily enough, her words didn't seem to be that reassuring to the baby Dark Lord.

Death snorted – and fucking  _hell_ , Tomcat's expression was gold – before turning where they stood, muttering something under their breath about quests and trolls and probably something else that she wasn't really paying attention to for her own mental health. (She knew herself well enough that she knew if she ever started a game like WoW she'd be  _screwed_. And by 'screwed' she meant that she'd never see the light of day again and face into obscurity like some cliche urban legend.)

With a sarcastic, "Congratulations on screwing the world sideways" from Death –  _hypocritical much?_  – the bastard who would unfortunately never cease to exist vanished into thin air silently, thankfully taking the smoke and frost along for the journey.  _Jesus Christ, what is with all the theatrics? Yes, being the physical form of something as eternal as Death is kind of impressive, but there's no need for that ridiculousness. They're more of a poncy twat than Draco, and I went to school with his older self._

She smirked evilly.  _We won_. The girl spun to face her companions. "Told you it'd work," she said smugly.

Before Arsehole A or B could respond with either demented wit or biting snark, Dahlia turned to the newly-alive megalomaniac and smiled brightly at him, suppressing the urge to break down in hysterics at the wary look she was receiving.  _He has no idea._

"Hi, Tom! Welcome back to life! Let's hope this life goes better than the last one!"

"... What."

_Well_ , she thought with a wicked grin,  _this is going to make things interesting._

_Welcome back to the last decent save point, my new personal stress ball._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> OTL Right. I am - once more - terribly sorry for taking so long on this fic, but I've actually screwed my wrist up somehow and I have tendonitis or something like it which isn't. Going. Away. But that's a rant for another day. To make a long story short, this means typing for long periods of time is literally too painful. Not to mention I have decided this is my most difficult fic to write. Not the ongoing story-driven ones which require careful planning and formatting, but this crack-filled mess which is horrendously difficult to write for. I don't even know why. Anyway, I'm sorry for taking so long, but I'm not going to promise quicker updates when it's unlikely I'll get to keep said promise.
> 
> And yes, I did revive Tom Riddle, because this is my insanity-riddled fic and I do what I want lol. I was genuinely thinking about what they would do for the Horcruxes, then I thought about the various fics I've read where people revive Tom for whatever reason. Granted, those fics tend to actually have a plot with a serious tone, but why should that stop me? I'm a working adult who's dying inside from dealing with idiots around me, and if I want to bullshit my way through this disaster of a story, so I shall! (Yes, I am stressed lol. I dread to think of what a counsellor would say if I actually spoke to one lol)
> 
> So yeah, here's a very delayed chapter - sorry again - my story has followed Tom Riddle off the figurative deep end, and I'm going to chill and listen to BTS, because why not?
> 
> On a serious note though, thanks for all the support my readers have given me, especially in not demanding updates and generally being rude like some people have. You guys are the best.
> 
> See ya next time!


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